


A Charming Deception

by Penny_Candy



Series: Confessions in Space [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien OC's, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Comfort, Jealousy, Lance & Pidge - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutilation, Pain, Pidge has a crush on Shiro, Pining, Self-Denial, Slow Burn, background pairings - Freeform, intrigue and plots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:23:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12583796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_Candy/pseuds/Penny_Candy
Summary: Lance thinks Keith is jealous because he finally has a girlfriend.Keith is jealous. But that's beside the point...The girl is evil.





	1. New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This very first Chapter is for Viv... Who has been dying for me to post "That Schee'rit fic"  
> Here it is!

 

Chapter 1: New Friends 

  


    Keith ran; the balls of his feet hit the shining surface of the castle floor in a rhythmic thudding that was only broken as he skidded around corners, barely slowing for them as he raced towards the castle entrance. Late. He was going to be late.

 

    If he wasn’t there on time to meet the Car’iti delegation, Allura would flay him alive.

And worse, Lance would find some sly little cutting remark that would grate against Keith’s nerves for the rest of the evening. Just thinking about it put an extra bust of speed in his steps.

 

    So, being in that frame of mind, it was almost inevitable that when he skidded into the entrance hall with apologies already on his lips, the great doors were still closed and the group of paladins was still milling around at ease with helmets still tucked under their arms.

 

    Five pair of eyes focused on him as laughing conversation died due to his unorthodox entrance. Taking a deep breath, Keith tucked his helmet under his arm and tried to smooth his still-damp and unruly hair. Laying down after his shower had been a terrible idea but he had been so tired from running the long patrol after the battle he just couldn’t keep his eyes open. A five minute nap had turned into forty-five and a subsequent, panicked scramble to make it to the meeting on time.

 

    “Keith! Good, I was just about to contact you. We were beginning to get concerned.” Allura was obviously attempting to disarm the tension and for that, Keith was grateful. As he walked across the room, he rolled his shoulders to settle his armor. It felt odd.

 

    Dawning suspicions about the fit were confirmed as he reached the group and Pidge, with a sly smile, came up and started unbuckling the chestplate. Before he could protest, she scolded him lightly, “Did you fall asleep, Ace? Because it looks like you were sleepwalking when you put this on. Hold still. You’ve got your chestplate on backwards and one of your greaves is misbuckled.”

 

    Chagrined, he put his helmet on the floor and let her manhandle him as she would. Protesting would only delay things and embarrass him further. Resignation to his fate was the least painful option. He held his arms out to give her better access. “Hey, Hunk. Give me a hand, here. Lance, come here,” She pulled a rod out of some mysterious pocket in her armor and it unfolded into something that surprisingly, looked exactly like a hairbrush. “Grab this and do something useful for once.” Keith’s pained glare earned him another pot-shot as she eyed his hair, “See if you can make this sleepy mess presentable.”

 

    “Miracles!” He exclaimed, clasping his hand to his chest, dramatically. “The little green gremlin asks me for a miracle. It’s a mullet, Pidge. There is no way in the universe I can do anything presentable with that.”

 

    “Just tame the fucking cowlick, Lance.”

 

    “I mean, if he had been here, say… half a varga ago… maybe then, I could do something. That would only take a small miracle...” Lance held his fingers about an inch apart to emphasise his point. Then he grinned and widened the spread of his fingers. “Small. Not miniscule.”

 

    “Oh my God, Lance,” Keith was fast losing his patience. “Just give me the damn brush and I’ll take care of it myself.”

    “Shut up you, and hold still!” Pidge stopped adjusting armor for a moment to turn and snap at Lance, “Just fix his damn hair! We’ve only got a few minutes before Shiro gets here with the Car’iti and if I have to do it, you’ll regret it later.” Her voice dropped, causing them all to shiver. Cowed, Lance shuffled over and started running the brush through Keith’s tangles.

 

    Expecting to have every knot yanked out by force, Keith braced himself for the worst. But Lance’s strokes were long and firm. Keith relaxed into it and closed his eyes in pleasure. Surprisingly, Lance had a gentle touch. An idle and unexpected thought flashed through his head; it was a shame he couldn’t get the guy to do this again later, it felt so good. He felt fingers hesitantly comb through his hair, lifting it and letting the air dry it as it fluffed.

 

    Faintly, he thought he heard Lance mutter, “It’s so soft. How in the world can something that looks so hideous be so damn soft?” The fingers slowed, and finally paused, just resting in the back of Keith’s hair. Keith cautiously opened one eye and turned his head to glance over his shoulder as Pidge buckled the last latch and stood up. Lance had a goofy, puzzled look on his face. At least until he saw Keith staring at him.

 

    Lance took an exaggerated sniff of Keith's hair. "At least you took a shower and you don't smell like armpit sweat. Not like that one time.” He grinned as he let the black strands fall through his fingers, “But, who knows... maybe this group of aliens would like that! A new aphrodisiac. Eau De Keith."

 

    All thoughts of possibly enjoying Lance’s company disappeared like smoke in a stiff breeze. Keith whirled on him and Lance backed away, laughing, with the brush held up defensively in front of him. “That only happened one time!” Keith could feel his face heating, but it wasn’t fair! It had been another long after-battle patrol and he had been running late, again. Allura had kindly ignored the ripe smell of sweaty human but she had been forced to do some diplomatic gymnastics. Apparently none of them were going to let that go any time soon.

 

    Allura, who had been watching the grooming session with amusement, received a call over the commlink in her earrings. She clapped her hands to gain their attention and Keith momentarily left off stalking Lance and the hairbrush.

 

    “Paladins, quickly, into place. They’re arriving!” And sure enough, just as they got the helmets lined up against the wall and brushes stuffed behind potted plants, the large doors began to open with a stately creak. All four of them jumped into place and Keith found his spot beside Allura with Lance on his left, followed by Pidge and Hunk. As Shiro ushered the five strangers into the castle, the group appeared to be nothing less than calm pictures of responsible, young paladins.

 

    They’d been fighting in the skies and space of this forested planet for a couple days now, chasing the last vestiges of the Galra occupying force away from the system, but this was Keith’s first look at the Car’iti in person. His first impression was that they were small. Certainly none of them were bigger than Pidge.

 

    Keith stood next to Allura and got a good look at the five as they moved slowly towards the voltron contingent. Two of them were more brightly colored in both skin tone and...hair? Keith blinked. On second look it was actually a crest of some kind. Possibly feathers. Possibly not. Regretfully, he wished he had taken the time to research this species. Apparently if they were going to act as ambassadors as well as fighters, it would become a recurring issue. He just hoped desperately that he wouldn't embarrassed Allura today.

 

    He heard Pidge muttering softly to herself, “Bipedal, upright stance, bilateral symmetry. Two eyes, ears, arms and legs. Why is it there are so many species in the universe that conform to this pattern? I mean, isn't it odd? Wouldn't you think the variety would be more...varied? I'd hate to think those old sci-fi movies were accurate about this. It might be good for a comparis…”

 

    Keith frantically thought at her as hard as he could for her to stop babbling. Those were not things to think out loud in front of the nice aliens! As she stopped abruptly with a squeak, she had either heard his mental hiss at her or Hunk had poked her in the side. He sighed in relief and turned his attention back to Allura’s welcome speech.

 

    “And so we bid you welcome to the Castle of Lions, Ambassador Trill’ist. Please be welcome in our home and I hope your stay is comfortable. It will be approximately 3 Quintents before we achieve orbit around Rexal 4 so you will be with us for a while. I hope that is not an inconvenience?”

 

    The small being with the light-bronze skin and the muted rose-colored crest chuckled softly and there was a sparkle in her jade-colored eyes. “Of course not. We are completely in your debt, you and and all the members of the Voltron team. The Galra have been cleared from our skies for the first time in Decafeebs and now you have offered your assistance with transporting our delegation to Rexal 4 for trade talks. We can never thank you enough.”

 

    “Truly, it is our pleasure. Think nothing of it. There are still Galra ships in the area. We would be remiss in allowing you to travel unescorted.” Allura’s smile was heartfelt. Keith could hear the pleasure in her voice. It was evident that these were the diplomatic moments she lived for.

 

    “Speaking of escorts, allow me to introduce you to the rest of my party.” Ambassador Trill’ist brought forward the three males that were traveling with her as assistants, but other than noting that their coloring was far more subdued, Keith paid them little attention. His eye was drawn to the final member who was hovering in the back, frowning. Keith watched her closely.

Her coloring was so much brighter than Ambassador Trill’ist, was she younger? Her skin was almost golden and sparkled in the castle overlighting. Her eyes, when she finally lifted her head high enough so he could see them, were a lovely shade of emerald. She looked tiny and defensive and the scowl on her face reminded Keith of Pidge in a bad mood. Unlike the other four, her crest was slicked back flat to her head instead of perking upright. Keith wondered if it was a sign of stress.

 

    The ambassador reached back with a tsking sound and pulled her forward. “This is Schee’rit, my fellow ambassador. I have not had the pleasure of working with her before but I am looking forward to our association as I have heard many good things about her negotiation skills. She has come highly recommended” The young being in question averted her eyes and bit her lip in what may have been a nervous gesture. Her crest flattened even further, if that was possible, and she surreptitiously smoothed it with one hand while straightening her robe with the other.

 

    Allura graciously bowed and smiled. “It is my pleasure to meet you all. If I may introduce you to the paladins? I believe you already know Shiro. These are Keith, Lance, Pidge and Hunk. They are all Humans of the planet Earth and are a wonderful team, we are privileged to have them come so far to aid us in the battle against Zarkon.”

 

    Five pair of eyes tracked straight towards the paladins and Keith, now familiar almost to the point of comfort with the protocols of greeting heads of state, bowed gracefully and saw the others do the same out of the corner of his eye.

 

    “Eart’! How delightful. Your matriarchs must be so proud. You are each a credit to your Households. If you would be so kind as to provide a communications link to your home planet, so that I may congratulate your matriarchs on the outstanding quality of their offspring; yes, yes I insist.” Ambassador Trill’ist churred delightedly and grabbed Keith’s hand. “This is your greeting on your planet, yes? To press hands? Every time? How delightfully intimate! Your society must be very close.”

 

    Desperately at a loss, Keith glanced at Shiro, hoping for a clue as to how to respond. The Black Paladin’s mouth was drawn tightly in suppressed mirth and Keith could see Shiro’s shoulders trembling with hidden laughter. _Great. A lot of help there._

 

    Keith smiled down at the tiny alien and changed her grip so it was palm to palm. He then pumped their hands gently a couple of times. “Like this, Ambassador. It is a sign of non-hostility, it shows that you have no weapons and no ill-will towards the other person.”

 

    “Oh! I see. A lovely custom. We shall practice it so when the day comes to visit your planet we shall do it properly, yes?” She turned to the nearest male, “Make a note, Barr.”

 

    Keith bit his lip against a chuckle and smiled at the twinkle in her eyes. He suspected she was sharp as a tack behind that batty-old-lady exterior. He would not underestimate her.

 

    “Indeed, Ambassador. I do hope that will be possible some time in the future.” Keith’s heart warmed and he suppressed a smirk as he imagined Garrison Commander Iverson trying to get the better of this spunky alien. Things to look forward to, indeed. No wonder Shiro was laughing.

 

Trill’ist proceeded to work her way down the entire line of paladins, shaking hands with each one and evoking smiles as she went. The three males followed her, copying the handshake with various degrees of concentration and solemness. Again, Keith missed their names because his attention had drifted back to Schee’rit.

 

    Full of distressed dignity, she stepped forward and held her hand out. Keith took it and tried to draw her out with a smile. “I hope your mission is a success.”

 

    Before she could even respond, Lance smoothly elbowed Keith out of the way and took her hand, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. Startled, emerald eyes widened even further and she froze, uncertain whether it was safe to pull away or not.

 

    “Hello, beautiful! Do you remember me?” After a suggestive pause, Lance struck the heel of his hand against his forehead while still holding her hand captive in a light grip with his other one. “Oh! That’s right,” he smiled broadly as he leaned over her hand, “We’ve only met in my dreams.”

 

    Keith growled under his breath. The ambassador was a representative of her planet and Lance’s leering grin was not appropriate. Before he could manage to kick the Blue Paladin and try to recover the situation, he was stopped by her slow, impish smile. Keith watched in astonishment as her crest lifted for the first time since their arrival and he was startled to see it was the exact, brilliant blue of Lance’s eyes.

 

    “Blue Paladin, yes? Well I’m certain that my real self can’t hope to compare to the one you dreamed about but perhaps we can spend some time together on the journey comparing notes and seeing how close I can come?”

 

    Lance’s eyes lit up with joy and Keith just stood there as his brain stopped working altogether. It took Allura’s gentle prod to make him realize his mouth was hanging open. Embarrassed, he closed it with a snap and straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his armor. Keith then watched in astonishment as Ambassador Schee’rit allowed Lance to thread her arm through his crooked elbow and walk with her from the hall, offering to give her a “thorough” tour of the castle.

 

    Keith stood there, blankly, trying to get his brain kick-started again. Shiro, chuckling, came over and whacked the Red Paladin roughly on the shoulder. The irritated glare he received was cheerfully ignored and he waved at Pidge and Hunk who were deep in conversation with the three male Car’iti. Allura and Trill’ist were chatting amiably and Lance had his own captive audience. “Come on, let’s follow them before they get too far ahead. After we get the guests settled we’ll have a little time to change out of our gear before dinner.”

 

    Dinner was fairly uneventful. Actually, for Keith, it was almost boring. Hunk had made an effort and managed to turn his usual excellence of culinary skill into something extraordinary. Keith suspected the fresh foodstuffs from the planet below had something to do with it. So, the food itself ended up being the highlight of his night. Conversation was, lacking. Normally that wouldn’t bother him and he would eat his dinner in peace and keep his own company, but tonight was different.

 

    Somehow ending up as the odd man out, Keith was left as the only Voltron member unpartnered with one of the Car’iti. Pidge, on his right, was busy chatting up one of the males and Shiro, on his other side and at the end of the table, was listening to one of the others. Keith sighed inaudibly, he had hoped to be closer to the fiery, old ambassador, but both of the ambassadors were at the other end of the table flanking Allura. Trill’ist was on his side of the table and out of sight. He had to settle for watching Schee’rit and Lance laughing and talking. Keith wondered what outrageous story Lance was telling in order to make her laugh so hard.

 

    Nothing went well for Keith after that. Sourly, he pulled his attention away from the two of them and tried to focus on the conversation Shiro was having with his dinner partner, instead. That was a failure because every burst of merriment from the other end of the table would jerk his attention back. It was enough to turn Hunk’s beautiful dinner sour in his stomach.  

    As the evening wore on, and the dinner party moved into the castle’s ballroom for mingling and perhaps a bit of dancing, Keith’s impression of the young Schee’rit was not improved. She flirted, she flounced, she batted her bright, green eyes. Keith thought she acted like one of those completely airheaded twits that hung around the gates of the Garrison, ready to snare a young man to take her out for a night on the town. The worst part of it… Lance was eating it up.

 

    Keith lurked near the table of drinks and finger-snacks. He had separated himself from the group as early as possible. He refused to mingle, brooding over the drink he had grabbed blindly off the table and hadn’t even bothered to taste yet, keeping to the shadows. He watched the shift and play of the others, the subtle dance of groups meeting and separating; but mostly, he watched the two of them. His awareness of the rest of his team and the visitors faded into the background, his eyes refused to be dragged away from the vision of Lance laughing. And he was. Not the sly chuckle or superior smirk he aimed at Keith on a daily basis, this was light and full of unsuppressed joy. His laughter decorated the room like a thousand points of light.

 

    Keith’s fingers tightened on the cup he was holding. He tried to dismiss the hard lump of emotion in his chest as something he was imagining, but the worst part was he couldn’t even articulate why it bothered him that Lance’s weak pick-up lines and flirty smile seemed to have worked for once.

 

    A chuckling voice interrupted his dark thoughts and, startled all out of proportion, he almost dropped his cup. Fumbling it, he turned to confront the person who had snuck up behind him, with a snarl. Embarrassed, and furious with himself for letting anyone catch him off-guard, he was ready to release some pent-up frustrations on the hapless teammate who had startled him

 

    With a stuttering, choking noise, Keith aborted the reflexive attack, practically stumbled over the table of beverages and ended up dropping his cup after all. It rolled, unattended and unnoticed under the table.

 

    It was the tiny, little Ambassador with her knowing smile and inquisitive mind. Caught unprepared, Keith struggled to recall her name as he stared rudely. The only thing his brain could focus on were the patterns in the elaborate gown she was wearing and how they somehow echoed the colors of her fluffed-up crest.

 

    “My apologies, Paladin. I had not meant to startle you.” Her eyes, more of a soft jade than a bright emerald, twinkled at him. The scales on her cheeks were soft and dull with age but the way she cocked her head as she waited for him to overcome his awkward and embarrassing error let him know that her wit was sharp enough. Her smile broadened. “Perhaps you do not recall me? So many names and all of them strange. Please allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Trill’ist.”.

 

    Yes, now Keith recalled. He managed to pull himself together, proving that Coran’s diplomacy lessons had not been entirely wasted on him. He inclined his head. “My apologies, Ambassador Trill’ist. You startled me. I did not intend to be rude.”

 

    She continued to smile up at him in approval. “Not at all. You are all quite kind. Your assistance with our transport to the neighboring star system and setting up negotiations with the Rexalans is most appreciated. While the Galra have been chased away from our planet, their occupation was brutal and left our home decimated.” She sighed, “There is so much we are lacking now, and we have not the capability of protecting ourselves at the current time. I hope we will be able to trade for some of their defense technology. The Rexalans have never been conquered.”

 

    Keith relaxed slightly. “Probably because their cities are surrounded by shields and their entire civilization is located at the bottom of their ocean. It does make it more difficult to conquer a people you can’t even get to.” He snorted ruefully, “Even our lions will have trouble down there. All but the blue one. Water is her element, after all.”

 

    Trill’ist glanced over at Schee’rit who was allowing Lance to guide her through some Earth-based dance moves. Her expression grew thoughtful,  “And that is likely why she has attached herself to said lion’s paladin. Please excuse her, if you can. She is young and not terribly well-versed in polite diplomacy.”

 

    Keith bit back a rude observation about apparent diplomacy methods as the two of them tangled up together and ended up laughing in the middle of the dance floor.

 

    The ambassador made a churring noise that was possibly a laugh. “Still, it is good to see her enjoying herself.” And then her voice softened, “There has not been much joy in the lives of my people, lately, and hers has been especially hard.”

 

    Just before Keith could ask what she meant by that, one of the male Car’iti approached them and bowed to Keith. “Your pardon, Paladin. The Ambassador’s presence is requested.” With an affectionate smile, he turned to the ambassador. “Trill, you promised Coran some time tonight, if you recall.”

 

    The older female sighed and chittered something rapidly at him that gave Keith an impression of annoyance. Taken aback, the male replied in a soothing tone and continued on in their language until she calmed and finally fluttered her hands at him. She turned and cocked her head at Keith, “Many apologies. I must go and be official for a while. I do hope we can talk again soon. Barr will keep you company in my absence, Red Paladin.”

 

    He reached over and took her hand, lifting it to his lips the way Lance had done with Schee’rit. “Please, call me Keith. There is no need for such formality between friends.” Yes, those lessons of Coran’s had not been wasted.

 

    With great delight, Trill’ist took his hand and shook it firmly three times. “Thank you, and now I must go. Your pardon, please.” She bowed neatly and tottered off across the room to where Coran was waiting.

 

    Keith watched her go with a smile of bemusement. Barr’t also watched her go but caught sight of the paladin’s gaze and turned to question him, “Paladin, if I may ask, what is the nature of your interest in my mate?”

 

    Caught off guard once more, Keith stuttered for a moment. “Your - your mate?”

 

    “Indeed,” and Barr’t puffed up proudly, “I danced for her and she accepted me.”

 

    Keith couldn't help but smile. “Congratulations.”

 

    “Thank you!” and then the little alien’s voice became a nervous squeak, “I did not think she would! It was only a few days ago and I still feel like I shall wake any moment and find it was only a dream.”

 

    Keith nodded. He remembered the day they had left Earth very clearly and he often wondered if he’d hit his head or something after setting those explosive charges, because everything that had happened after he’d found Shiro again had been something like a crazy dream. Meeting Lance and the others, been abducted into space by a blue, robot lion and becoming a hero to civilizations across the galaxy… yes, definitely something out of a dream.

 

    “So,” Barr’t said, pulling Keith’s attention back, “What were you and my mate discussing when I interrupted? Perhaps I can answer your questions.”

 

    “Oh, we were just talking about Ambassador Schee’rit.” Keith’s gaze was pulled back to the dance floor. Lance was still dancing with the Car’iti ambassador; or rather, he was dancing _for_ her. Keith watched, mesmerized as the Blue Paladin demonstrated some hip-gyrating move that would have definitely gotten him some stares down at the nightclub near the Garrison.

 

    “Hmm. I see. Well, if you would like to compete for her attention, I could show you some of our more traditional courtship dance steps.” He paused in contemplation as he watched Lance on the dance floor. “You might need them, he is quite good.”

 

    “Yeah… he is.” Honestly, Keith hadn’t really ever seen Lance this full of enjoyment. Usually all his attempts to flirt with women were tinged with an underlying hint of desperation. Tonight, out there, he was just having fun. As Lance laughed, Keith found his own lips lifting in an unconscious echo.

 

    “...din. Keith.” A small, clawed hand on his arm startled Keith out of his reverie. Brown eyes peered up at him. At least he had managed not to reflexively attack this time.

 

    “I’m sorry, Burr…” Keith paused uncomfortably, “I’m terribly sorry. I have forgotten your name.”

 

    The little alien bowed. “Barr’t’ist. Steward and mate to Matriarch Trill’ist. It is my pleasure to be at your service.”

 

    “Bar’t” Keith struggled with the trills and clicks.

 

    “‘Tis close enough, Paladin.”

 

    Keith sighed and decided a change of subject would be wise before the small being dragged him out on the dance floor to teach him some courtship dancing. “If you could, please tell me more about your group. I was asking Ambassador Trill’ist about Schee’rit and where she came from.”

 

    “Ahh.”  Barr’t’s gaze brushed over her, gliding across the dance floor with the Blue Paladin. There was much unsaid meaning in that one, soft exclamation. Keith perked up. Smelled like a story.

 

    “Officially, her dossier says that she’s from a small village on the edge of one of the great forests. It’s one of the few places with enough open space for the sunlight to reach all the way to the ground. I, personally, find the thought of walking on the surface, instead of in the treetops, quite strange.”

 

    “So, she truly is an ambassador?”

 

    “Yes, she volunteered. The Planetary Council pro-tem chose her and Trill’ist from among the volunteers. Schee’rit had letters of recommendation. Many of them.” He trailed off uncomfortably and would no longer meet Keith’s eyes.

 

    Keith raised his eyebrow. “You question them?”

 

    Barr’t looked like he’d eaten something sour. “I have no reasons to doubt their validity. I’m certain she is as excellent a negotiator as is claimed.”

 

    “I understand.” And he did. Keith was perfectly capable of reading between the lines. He watched as the young lady wound her way around Lance on the dance floor in a sinuous manner. Yes, he could well imagine the type of negotiating skills she possessed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. This has been a long time in the creation but here it is.  
> For those of you who remember my self-indulgent birthday story that came out this time LAST year....  
> (All Dressed Up and Confessions to Go) This is the beginning of the prequels.  
> You asked. Here it is.  
> I hope you enjoy it!


	2. Gut Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, the untouched plate of food was not the only disappointing thing about the meal. Schee'rit kept Lance beside her, as she did at every opportunity. It made his hackles rise and he felt his lip lift in a snarl. 
> 
> Schee'rit, from her position of ownership, shot Keith a few narrow-eyed looks that he interpreted as smug and possessive. When Lance leaned over to rub his nose against hers, Keith pushed his chair back with a muttered excuse to Hunk, “I'm sorry. I guess I'm not feeling well right now. I'm going to go lie down.” He stalked from the dining hall with multitude of concerned eyes following him.
> 
> His pathetic excuse only had the redeeming benefit of being completely true. He needed to leave before the churning feeling in his gut made him lose breakfast as well as his uneaten lunch.
> 
> *Chapter: Let's meet the aliens and watch the author throw Keith under the bus.*

 

Chapter 2 - Gut Feelings

 

    Keith stared at the cup of space-coffee, trying to cool it to a drinkable temperature by sheer willpower. Really, there were more effective ways, including not over-heating it in the first place, but he didn't really want to go out on patrol yet anyhow, so the delay while he stared at the steaming cup, was acceptable.

 

    He was just getting to the point of wondering if tasting it would be worth the potential burnt tongue when Pidge staggered into the dining room. Keith raised an eyebrow. By the rumpled state of her clothing, wherever it  was she had spent the night, it hadn't been her bed.

 

    Hunk or Lance would have greeted her with a cheerful bout of teasing. Shiro would be more restrained but would still scold her about her sleeping habits. (Particularly ironic, coming from him) Keith, being who he was, silently pushed his cup into her outstretched hand as she slumped into the chair next to him.

 

    She downed it in several long gulps and Keith winced as he picked up another cup and the carafe of space-coffee. She had probably just seared the inside of her mouth but didn't even flinch in response. She set her cup down and waved her hand over it in a request for a refill. He poured them each a cup and sipped cautiously at his while she gulped a couple more mouthfuls.

 

    Casually, Keith pushed the plate of breakfast rolls within her reach and settled in for the wait. Three rolls and a refill later, she grunted something that might be interpretable as a greeting. Keith grinned and finished his own roll. “So, good morning. You didn't go to bed last night, did you.” It was a statement, not a question. “Where did you finally pass out this time?”

 

    The determined chewing slowed and came to a stop. There was a long pause before she swallowed and replied, “I… don't know?” A look of pure confusion crossed her face before she shook it off with a shrug, “I followed the smell of breakfast and found you. No idea where I passed out last night. The mice will tell me if I left something laying around.” She shrugged indifferently and went back to eating.

 

    Now that she was awake enough not to bite his head off, Keith could ask the question that had been eating him alive since she had dragged herself into the room, “So, what’s with your hair? Did you lose a battle with your brush?”

 

    Unconsciously, Pidge reached up and touched the snarled mess. It was truly a mess. The worst case of bedhead Keith had ever seen and he’d witnessed some pretty horrendous cases in the mirror some mornings.

 

    “Honestly, Pidge. I gotta know.” The curiosity was eating him alive.

 

    She gave an exasperated grunt and tried to work her fingers through the tangles in order to tame it. “I was talking to Chur’ist during the party last night and he wanted to touch it. I guess it looked soft or something.” She shrugged. “It got a little mussed.”

 

    “Which one is Chur’ist?” Keith couldn’t remember. The three males all looked vaguely brown-ish to him.

 

    “The one with the blue undertones in his crest and the greenish eyes.” She paused a moment and added, “The short one.”

 

    Keith snorted. They were all short to him. “I hope he let you touch his crest in return.”

 

    “Oh, yeah! It was pretty neat. You'd expect it to feel like feathers but it doesn't. It was actually more like touching a butterfly wing, all tiny little scales and stuff. He told me that the males dust them with iridescent powders during their dances so they're as pretty as the females’.”

 

    “Bart offered to teach me to dance.” Keith mentioned it in a low aside and didn’t really expect Pidge to hear him.

 

    “Barr’t’ist?” Keith was mildly annoyed to see she got the pronunciation correct. “Awesome. You gonna take him up on that? Chur’ist doesn’t seem to particularly _like_ him but certainly respects him. Implied that Barr’t has quite a set for daring to court his mom.”

 

    “So, anyway… about your hair?” Keith gestured to the rat’s nest on her head. “What happened to your brush?”

 

    “Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Pidge’s tone was sour, “Lance stole it yesterday before the party. Said he was going to ‘clean’ it for me. Haven’t seen it since. As soon as I finish this cup, I’m gonna go pound on his door.” With a grimace, she downed the rest of the brown beverage and tossed a left-handed salute to him as she headed for the kitchen with her dishes. “Later, tater.”

 

    Keith sighed, “Right hand, you noob!” She ignored him and he gathered up his own dishes with a shake of his head. There was a patrol that had to be run and it was time he got going.

 

\-----

 

    Another dinner. This one less of a party and more of the family-style event that had become the team’s norm. Keith found himself sitting next to Barr’t’ist which was by no means a trial. The two of them cheerfully discussed their home planets. Not surprisingly, the conversation became a cultural exchange of names, holidays, and eventually… courtship traditions.

 

    Barr’t nodded understandingly, “Dinner and a Moovie. I see. So you demonstrate your ability as a provider and then show you can be entertaining as a companion. Very effective, I'm sure.”

 

    Keith watched the little alien’s crest fluff and bob, flashing the iridescent under-colors. “Well, yes. I suppose you could look at it that way.” he poured himself another glass of juice. “Tell me about your courtship of Trill’ist. You mentioned it yesterday.”

 

    Barr'’s crest stood even taller. “Oh, I suppose that is a good story. Yes, I will be happy to share it with you.” He paused for thought. “Well, one day, about a week before your arrival, I showed up on the Matriarchs doorstep and told the household staff that I was there to review the household budget.” He paused and took a sip from his glass.

 

    From the twinkle in his eyes, Keith suspected there was a great deal more to it than that. “Let me guess, they were not expecting you.”

 

    “No, in fact, they weren't.” Barr’t churred. “I will not bore you with the delightful details of how I sweet-talked my way into her house and spent an entire day there, balancing the household budget and finding that her auditor was siphoning off household funds.” Barr’t shook his head at the utter criminality of that act. “At the end of the day, I simply walked into her office, gave her the most elaborate and apologetic bow I could manage; I was guilty of breaking and entering, accessing privileged information and coercing the household staff, after all...”

 

    “Coercion?” Keith interrupted.

 

    “I talked one of the maids into making me a sandwich for lunch. As I was not there as an acknowledged guest, that was rude at the very least.” he took another sip of his beverage and smiled at Keith's appreciative chuckle.

 

    “You are quite a scoundrel aren't you?”

 

    “Quite. The benevolent and forgiving matriarch declined to toss me out of her tree out of hand. She instead permitted me to go over the accounts with her ” The Car’iti churred. “My skills impressed her sufficiently that she not only permitted me to live, despite my audacity, but she appointed me as her new steward. Her previous one had an unfortunate experience with the Galra…”

 

    Keith didn't need to glance at the little aliens deflated crest to read his dismay. And, he certainly didn't need further elaboration to have a very good idea of what had happened to the unfortunate prior steward.

 

    Barr’t shook himself and continued. “It only took me a few days to set everything in order. The house was soon running smoothly and I was beginning to win over the more stolid and cranky staff. There were rumors of Voltron being in the quadrant, there was a hope in the air that had not been present before in my lifetime. I was very excited and so I rushed my plan. You see, a nice position was not my only desire.” He waved it off as if steward to a prominent household was a minor accomplishment.

    “I wanted _her_.” His voice took on the breathless eagerness of someone who had recently fallen over the cliffs of love. “I wanted to court her and win her attention. I didn't care about any of the shining beauties available in my own circle. They are pretty enough… but I wanted more. I wanted a mate who was able to wield power with a sense of humor. Trill still knows how to laugh, after all these years. She has not let the politics and trials sour her. That is such a rare treasure. You have no idea.”

 

    Keith glanced down the table to where Lance was laughing loudly over something Schee’rit had just said. Would the Blue Paladin still be able to laugh when battle after battle and killing had worn down his spirit? Keith already had a hard time with that.

 

    Keith pulled his attention back to Barr’t. “So, you danced for her?”

 

    “Oh indeed. I danced outside her door for vargas. Such a contrary female. She seemed to think she had no use for a suitor, much less another mate at her age!” He sounded positively offended at the idea. “Fortune was with me -- and the power of proper planning -- for I had obtained the blessing of her remaining mate and he talked with her during those vargas and convinced her to at least hear me out.”

 

    “Remaining mate…” Keith’s brow furrowed, “Umm, if she already _had_ a mate why were you courting her?”

 

    Barr’t, realizing he’d confused the alien, explained further. “Wealthy and prominent Matriarchs can have as many mates as they feel they can give attention to. Everyone knew Matriarch Trill was down to only one. I recall my own fathers telling me that at one time she had four! Imagine keeping four mates secret from the Galra.” His voice lowered, “they do not approve of our generous relationships. But for us, it’s the proper way. I could go into how it takes multiple males to support a proper household but I think it would probably bore you. Let’s just say I could have courted one of her daughters instead, but I like adventure.” He winked. Keith wondered if he’d picked that up from Lance.

 

    “So,” He propped his elbow on the table and leaned forward, “I take it she let you in after all?” Keith smiled. The little steward had quite a turn of phrase. It lent itself to good storytelling.

 

    “Mmm.. yes. Eventually. I can tell you, I was quite tired by the time she opened the door and deigned to watch my performance. But my heart thrilled when the light from the doorway shone out and I put my heart into every step. By the time she closed the door again, I was so exhausted I could barely walk.” Barr’t clasped his hands in front of himself in remembrance.

 

    “So, she didn’t let you in after all?” Keith was still confused. What a complicated relationship. Then again… humans weren’t any better.

 

    “Oh no. That would be most improper. If the lady likes your dance, she will send you a letter and invite you to dinner.” The corner of his mouth lifted.

 

“And I take it she did?”

 

    “Yes, and it was a very stressful 12 vargas before I got a response. I couldn’t even sleep. I was humming like a bowstring.” His eyes widened in remembered excitement and he took a staggeringly deep breath before exclaiming, “Paladin Keith, she delivered it _herself_!” Barr’t practically squeaked. After reflecting on that one moment, his eyes lowered and he pushed the remaining food around on his plate a bit. “We rushed things, Voltron was coming and revolt was in the wind. I wish I had more time with her before the attack, before we came on this trip. We didn’t even have a proper ceremony with the correct seasons and the gathering of family, and the gifts…” his voice trailed off and his crest deflated. Keith, feeling uncomfortable, shifted his attention elsewhere to give Barr’t time to collect himself.

 

    He looked down the table to see what Trill’ist was doing. She was sitting between Allura and Coran, again, deep in conversation. Still, she seemed to sense his regard and glanced down the table to meet his eyes. She smiled at him. Her gaze shifted to Barr’t and her smile deepened, affectionately. New as their relationship was, it seemed to be reciprocated on both sides. Keith smiled and looked away again.

 

    Unfortunately, the direction he looked was towards Lance.

 

    Lance was laboriously explaining to Schee’rit a complex orbital procedure he had successfully completed three missions ago. She seemed to be completely entranced as she leaned over, pressing into his arm to look at the data pad. Keith sighed and returned his attention to his plate and pushed the food around a little more.

 

    Barr’t picked up on the little exhalation and forgot his own problems to ask, “What is wrong, Keith?”

 

    “Oh, it’s just them.” he jerked his chin towards the far end of the table where Lance was going on about Delta-V and the complexity of the three-moon system.

 

    Barr’t glanced down the table, grinned and took a sip from his glass. “Since you have clearly stated that you have no interest in the ambassador, I am wondering, what's annoying you more? The attention she's giving him, or the fact that his diagram is incorrect?”

    “I can’t believe she’s actually listening to his rubbish.” Keith knew he was being waspish and hated himself for it. It had been a long day, but that was no excuse.

 

“Only that, of course.” Barr’s smile widened and he took another sip. “Quite frankly I’m surprised at her patience. She’s been listening for almost a varga and she has yet to correct him. You have to admire the willpower that takes.”

 

    “Correct him?” Suddenly Keith took a new interest in the diagram being projected from the data pad. “What do you mean?” It took him a solid minute to realize that Lance’s diagram _was_ wrong. He had thought it was just the fact that he was looking at it from the wrong side of the projection.

    With a churring laugh, Barr’t put his glass down and leaned over to murmur, “His figures do not take into account the third moon on the opposite side of the planet.”

 

    Keith blinked. It was true. Keith was impressed that Barr’t could spot that from _this_ side of the screen. He was feeling just a bit cranky because the little alien had spotted it before him. Just as Keith was about to ask Barr’t how that related to Schee’rit, Barr’t elbowed him with a smug grin and directed his attention back to the other end of the table. Something was happening.

 

    Schee’rit sweetly asked Lance to refill her beverage. He, being delighted to assist her in any way, swiftly grabbed her glass and turned to find the right carafe of juice.

 

    While his back was turned, she casually reached over and typed a string of numbers into the pad. The orbit on the holo-display, which had been glaringly wrong to Keith’s eyes, shimmered, shifted, and settled into a more elliptoid form. She smiled in relief that matched his own and Keith watched her crest relax, only then realizing she had been holding it in a stiff and politely interested pose this whole time.

 

    As Lace turned back and handed her the filled glass, she thanked him and drew his attention back to the diagram and the story he was telling. Lance blinked once at the figures, gave it a moment of puzzled examination, then shrugged it off and went back to his exciting story. Keith turned to his dinner partner with wide, shocked eyes, full of questions.

 

    Barr’t merely churred a laugh and added a second helping to his plate. “We do have pilots, Keith. In fact, Schee’rit is one of them. We live in trees but we have been in space for Decafeebs.” He gave Keith a very human wink. “We are not barbarians, you know!”

  


\-----

 

    Two days later, Keith was beginning to think his dislike of Schee’rit was unreasonable. After all, she’d done nothing to him, she was making Lance blissfully happy with all the attention, and really, he knew nothing about her other than some sketchy and reluctantly-repeated rumors.

 

    So, when he came up on a corner in time to overhear the tail-end of an argument between her and one of the other Car’iti, he was surprised. Surprised, but cautious enough to bide his time and gather some information. Keith pressed himself up against the wall and listened to the argument going on in the adjacent corridor.

 

    “No. I told you, I won't do it.”

 

    “You will.” the snarl was hardly recognizable but by the shiver of distaste that clenched his gut, Keith knew who it was. “I am an official representative of our planet and you'll do what I say.” He bristled at her tone and prepared to step forward.

 

    “Threatening me, now?” the voice was still firm so Keith held himself back. “Is that how you got males to follow you back home? I can't imagine what other method you'd use, I heard about what happened to your mates.”

 

    She gasped in outrage. Keith heard the sharp reverberation of a slap. Without thinking, he stepped around the corner to interrupt any further violence.

 

    Keith aimed for an air of calm nonchalance that probably fooled them about as well as their clenched fists and aggressive stances would have fooled him. “Greetings, I didn’t expect to see either of you here. Is everything all right? If you are lost, I can guide you back to the main hallway. These castle corridors all tend to look alike at first.” He held that well-practiced smile as best he could and carefully did not look at the reddening mark on the young male’s cheek, keeping his attention on Schee’rit who looked about ready to spit nails at him.

 

    “No. I can find my own way. Thank you, Paladin.” With one final glare at the young male who kept his eyes carefully trained on a most interesting corner of the ceiling, she spun on her heels and stalked off; fortunately in the direction opposite to where Keith had been heading. That took care of that problem for the moment. Keith wondered what Lance was doing without his leech being attatched.

 

    Keith turned towards the young Car’iti. “Are you all right? Do you need the medical bay?”

 

    He blinked slowly and visibly shook himself, “Of course I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. Why would I need a medic?” A tiny line of red crept across his face where Schee’rit’s claw had snagged skin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, please. I need to finish running the Matriarch’s errand.” He bowed, formally and took his leave. Keith watched him depart and found himself with a feeling of oily foreboding that clung to him and refused to be banished.

 

He needed to talk to Lance.

 

\-----

 

    Talking to Lance turned out to be easier said than done.

 

    Between Keith’s morning practice session with Shiro and Lance being out on patrol, the next opportunity for him to speak with the pilot didn’t come until lunch.

 

    When he arrived, the table options were limited. Everyone else had managed to get there before him so his choices were either the seat on Schee’rit’s left, or one all the way down the length of the table. Since having the object of conversation sitting between them would defeat the purpose of talking with Lance, Keith chose the safer seat farther down. Frustrated and irritated, he settled for glowering at Lance’s blissfully cheerful face from a distance and poking at his plate of food.

 

    Hunk tried really hard to make their meals varied and used a lot of ingredients from planets they visited. Most of the time, it was a welcome change from the castle’s standard goo and was usually edible. Usually.

 

    Today’s unfortunate selection did not appear to meet those standards and that may be why Pidge declined to join them today. Perhaps he should have followed her example. Presented with something sandwichy that smelled vaguely of seafood, Keith thought long and hard -- questioning if he was _really_ that hungry. He pushed the plate aside. Apologies to Hunk, but he’d had bad reactions before, so better safe than sorry.

 

    Sadly, the untouched plate of food was not the only disappointing thing about the meal. Schee'rit kept Lance beside her, as she did at every opportunity. It made his hackles rise and he felt his lip lift in a snarl.

 

    Schee'rit, from her position of ownership, shot Keith a few narrow-eyed looks that he interpreted as smug and possessive. When Lance leaned over to rub his nose against hers, Keith pushed his chair back with a muttered excuse to Hunk, “I'm sorry. I guess I'm not feeling well right now. I'm going to go lie down.” He stalked from the dining hall with multitude of concerned eyes following him.

 

    His pathetic excuse only had the redeeming benefit of being completely true. He needed to leave before the churning feeling in his gut made him lose breakfast as well as his uneaten lunch.

 

    He lingered in the hallway, hoping after the meal, he could snag Lance in the hall for a quick word but he was thwarted again.

 

    “Keith,” Pidge ambushed him before the rest of them left. “Come here and help me with this.” She grabbed his arm and started dragging him down the hallway before he had a chance to protest. “Ahr’rin’ist wants to go through the plant database and I’m setting up an interface for them. I need a second pair of eyes.”

 

    Disgruntled, he asked waspishly, “Why me?”

 

    “Because you’re here and available.” she shot back, just as snidely. “Now, stop mooncalfing around and come on.” She gave an extra hard tug and when he resisted, paused with a huff, “Look, I know you didn’t eat. You left way too early. I’ve got some emergency goo-rations in my room and most of my remaining stash of Hunk’s last batch of cookies.”

 

    “Are… you trying to bribe me?”

 

    “Yes, is it working?” She didn't even pause for him to answer in the negative, “Good. Come on.”  She pulled again and this time he resigned himself as she dragged him down the hall. At least there would be food.

\-----

 

    Dinner was a similar repeat of lunch with one exception; and only his frustrations with Lance soured the pleasure of being seated next to Trill'ist. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Keith asked her about Ahr’rin.

 

    “Ahr?” the matriarch gave his name a musical lilt Keith had no hope of reproducing. He nodded his head. She puffed out her breath and chuckled. “it is good that he is down the table sitting next to your Blue Paladin. He would likely be offended by my assessment of his personality.” she took a bite of food and chewed it slowly, clearly enjoying it. He had to admit dinner was more palatable than lunch but she was delaying just to tease him. He glanced down the table to see Ahr’rin steadily chewing through his meal, blithely ignoring every attempt Lance made to get his attention and draw him into conversation. There weren’t many; Schee’rit was a much more engaging distraction.

 

    Finally, Trill’ist continued, dragging Keith’s attention back down the table to his own corner of it, “Ahr’rin, the dear boy, has no sense of humor to speak of. He is fusty, over-formal, and the only member of my household that refuses to call me ‘Mother’ even when we’re private. Delightfully irritating child. I honestly don't know what my daughter sees in him; he’s not even that good of a dancer.” She winked.

 

    “But he absolutely worships my daughter and he's rock-headed enough to not back down from a fight he knows is right, even if it's the smart thing to do.” She raised an eyebrow and smirked at Keith. He kept his gaze steady and refused to give her the amusement of successfully baiting him.

 

    She looked entirely amused anyhow. Her delicate claws slid over her chin in thought. “He doesn't like to socialize; I think that's why he likes working with plants. They don't ask uncomfortable questions.”

 

    Keith could understand that, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. “So, I take it he doesn’t get along with Ambassador Schee’rit?”

 

    Trill’ist arched her eyebrow. “Child… Ahr doesn’t get along with _anyone_. Except my daughter, Neer, of course.” She shook her head, a parent’s disbelief at a child’s choices.

 

    A few quiet minutes of food consumption and heavy thoughts ensued. Keith, lost in his own obsession with finding a way to talk with Lance, let himself be lulled by the rise and fall of the background noise of conversations around the table to the point where the Ambassador’s next question caught him by surprise. “So, Barr tells me you can dance?”

 

    Keith almost choked on his space-whatever-it-was. He _didn’t_ dance. Not well, at least. Not like Lance with his rolling hips and suggestive glances. He managed to clear his airway and meet her wickedly amused gaze with a degree of calm that was entirely manufactured. Yes, he would love to see Commander Iverson try and best this old woman. “No, Ambassador. Not nearly as well as Barr,” _or Lance…_ “I’m sure.”

 

    “Mmm. You are being modest, I am certain. I suggest you come by our quarters tonight and demonstrate some of your Eart’ dances. I am most curious.”

 

    Keith opened his mouth to argue, or protest, or excuse himself… or just plain anything; then shut it again without making a noise. She was looking at him with a smirk that said she was absolutely ready to counter any excuse he came up with.

 

    Shiro was a master of that smug expression and Keith had beaten himself against that wall enough times to recognize it as hopeless. For Shiro, he’d protest a few times for form’s sake… for the Ambassador, well, as much as he would like to, it would be rude.

 

    Keith bowed his head and conceded. Trill lifted her crest in smug pleasure as she sipped her beverage, and that reminded him…

 

    “Ambassador, what does it mean when your people rub noses?”

 

    She cocked her head questioningly, “Rub nos…?” Keith pointed to his own and she gave a little gasp of understanding. “Ahh. Like this…” she reached up and rubbed hers against his nose in a tender , little expression so swift, Keith didn't have time to react, just sit there and blink. Bemusedly, he brought his fingers up to feel where the feathery sensation of scales lingered.

 

    A chair scraped harshly against the floor and instinctively, Keith dropped his hand to his knife as he looked up. Everyone was staring at him. The Car’iti males were wide-eyed and tense with crests fully erect. Barr’t was standing with both hands on the table; his was the chair that had made the noise in the now-silent room. All three of them were staring fiercely at him and giving him the feeling of defenders facing an enemy… or a rival. Uncertain of the best course of action, Keith stayed very still.

 

    The Voltron paladins just looked confused, glancing between Keith and the tense Car’iti. Unsure what their comrade had done, they waited with varying degrees of tension. The seconds ticked by and hyper-aware, Keith could see his teammates hands drifting towards the activation points of their bayards. Even Lance. He barely even noticed Schee’rit’s questioning smirk or her restraining hand on Lance’s other arm.

 

    The sharp whistle that came from Ambassador Trill’ist made everyone jump. Attention flicked from him to her as if she’d flipped a switch. She stared down each of the males in turn. Chur’ist relented quickly; he let his crest droop and returned his attention to his plate, stuffing several bites in his mouth at once at a rate that put him in danger of choking on them. Ahr’rin lasted a bit longer; Trill’ist had to flare her crest at him and give him a low chitter before he slowly settled back with one last glare at Keith. As the Matriarch took control of her brood, one at a time, the tension in the room subsided like an ebbing tide.

 

    Barr’t, her mate, took a bit longer. Trill’ist was forced to rise from her own chair and chitter at him, smashing her fist down on the table to pull his attention away from Keith. There was a fierce back and forth between them, in their own language, which was short but intense. Barr’t’s crest drooped ever lower with each burst of impassioned speech. It finally ended with Trill settling back into her seat as he turned, defeated, back to the Red Paladin who had been waiting in confusion for the resolution of what appeared to be a lover’s tiff to be resolved.

 

    “My - rather, _our_ apologizes, Paladin Keith.” he glanced at the other males to confirm that he spoke for all of them on the matter, “We misread the situation and jumped to an inappropriate conclusion.” Keith could practically see the embarrassment radiating off of him, with his crest slicked back close to his head and his posture hunched over. “I hope you will be able to forgive our hastiness. The Matriarch has explained that any intimacy was,” he paused and collected himself with a gulp, “her idea and not yours.” Barr’t bowed uncomfortably and resumed his seat.

 

    Pidge sniggered and Keith shot her a look full of venom. He didn’t even need to see Lance to know exactly what kind of smug expression was on his face. It was going to be a long evening. Best case scenario, he and Barr’t would be able to patch this misunderstanding up and be back on good terms before he left their quarters tonight. A glance at Shiro confirmed that their leader expected him to “fix” this in whatever way it took. There was no way he’d be able to get Lance alone for a conversation tonight.

 

\----------


	3. In Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, Lance. I just don’t think there is any way she likes you as much as she’s letting on.” --Brilliant, Mullet-brain. There’s no way that weak-ass attempt is going to work. --
> 
> Stubbornly, he tried again, “I mean, she’s an alien, you’re human. It won’t work out, you have nothing in common.” 
> 
> All Keith’s hopes of reasonable conversation soon died like a cool breeze in the desert. Lance’s face dropped all expression. It was entirely blank. For the first time, Keith couldn’t read him at all. This was going much worse than he had anticipated. 
> 
> ** Fight! Fight! - Yes, we come to the big fight. **

CHAPTER 3 - In Deep  
  


Keith found Lance on the shooting range the next day. Not an unusual place for him to be; Lance was drawn to the range like Keith was to the training deck. It was a room similar to the training area on the deck above, able to create either a long shooting gallery or an interactive holographic arena with moving targets. This time it was set up as the shooting gallery with moving targets. 

Lance was cheerfully humming as he bulls-eyed one active target after another with his usual skill. Keith hated to compliment him on anything - mostly because the insufferable idiot always blew it all out of proportion when he did - but he had to admit, Lance rarely missed what he was aiming at. 

 

It was a fortuitous bit of luck to find him here. Today, the delegates were all meeting together in a Car’iti-only closed-door session to plan their strategy. It was the first time in two days that Schee’rit hadn’t been positively glued to Lance’s side. Keith decided to take advantage of the fact by hunting down the Blue Paladin and see what he was doing without the presence of the emerald-eyed temptress. Perhaps, he’d even be able to talk some sense into him.

 

He waited quietly at the door so as not to startle Lance. The last thing he wanted was that rifle aimed at him. Well, at least that was the excuse he gave himself. Lance probably knew he was there. he had excellent situational awareness and would have probably heard Keith’s footsteps in the hallway, and already identified him from them. As long as he wasn’t distracted, it was hard to take the Blue Paladin by surprise in combat.

 

If he was going to be honest with himself -- and it was about time he was -- Keith was just reluctant to spoil the paladin’s good mood. Lance always projected a lighthearted air and an offhand cheer, but his current feelings obviously went deeper.  Much deeper. He was more open, and his laugh was easier the last couple days; without the slight tinge of desperation it usually held. He was more... relaxed. 

 

And so, given the topic Keith was going to broach, It was inevitable that this sunny mood was about to be destroyed. He was perfectly willing to put that off for a few more minutes.

 

Lance finally finished his perfect-score run and powered down his rifle. He turned, and with a jaunty smile, greeted his teammate, “Hey! Didn’t expect to see you down here of all people. What’s up?” At Keith’s somber demeanor, his grin faded, “Is something wrong?”

 

“No.” Keith waved the concern away, “Not exactly. At least, there’s nothing immediately wrong.” He tried to ignore the tight ball of anxiety clawing in his chest and watched as Lance dismissed his bayard and began turning off the holographic targets. “I just wanted to talk to you about Ambassador Schee’rit.”

 

“Yeah!” Lance’s smile returned with a blinding intensity. “Isn’t she amazing? So pretty, if you know what I mean…” Lance waggled his eyebrows.

 

“She’s an alien, Lance.” Keith sighed. This was not going to be easy.

 

“Well yeah, I mean, that’s part of her charm.” Lance paused and added, “and best of all, she likes me!” His voice took on a soft, dreamy tone. Keith could practically see the little hearts floating in his eyes as he stared into space.

 

“Yeah, well…” Keith mumbled, “I’m not so certain that she really does.” He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and dropped his eyes.

 

Lance paused again in his clean up. “Exactly what do you mean by that?” His voice frosted like a winter’s morning. All serious now, the previous joy was gone and Keith felt his stomach churn, knowing it was his fault and knowing it was about to get worse.

 

This was his opportunity. He could stop this conversation, there was still time. He could laugh, tell Lance not to pay him any attention; say he had gotten hit once too many times in the head while on the training deck. Brush it all off and walk away… Walk away just like he had at the Garrison. But Lance was here, not missing, and Keith couldn’t just walk away this time. He tried for a reasonable tone; surely Lance would listen to reason. He was a reasonable guy, right?

 

“I’m sorry, Lance. I just don’t think there is  _ any _ way she likes you as much as she’s letting on.”  _ Brilliant, Mullet-brain. There’s no way that weak-ass attempt is going to work.  _

 

__ Stubbornly, he tried again, “I mean, she’s an alien, you’re human. It won’t work out, you have nothing in common.” 

 

All Keith’s hopes of reasonable conversation soon died like a cool breeze in the desert. Lance’s face dropped all expression. It was entirely blank. For the first time, Keith couldn’t read him at all. This was going much worse than he had anticipated. 

 

“And yet, when Hunk goes on about how cute Shay is and how much he’s looking forward to seeing her again, you don’t say anything…” Lance dropped the cleaning rag in the disposal slot and turned to face Keith coldly, with his arms crossed.

 

__ _ Shit. _ “That’s different,” Keith insisted, knowing, in his heart, that it really wasn’t.  _ Good job, Keith. How does that foot taste? Think you can get the other one in your mouth, too?  _ Keith pleaded with his eyes.

 

“No. It isn’t. It’s exactly the same.” Words cold as stone, crackling like a frozen pond. Lance’s hands slowly curled into fists.

 

Keith persisted, “Shay isn’t using Hunk. She wouldn’t. She’s not that kind of person!” Desperately grasping at straws, Keith felt the whole conversation beginning to spiral out of his control.

 

“No, she isn’t like that,” Lance agreed, “And neither is Schee. Schee truly likes me, in a way no one else does.” The hurt leaked out in the tone of Lance’s voice and burned in Keith’s ears. “I’m surprised, Keith. Why would you say something like that?” His eyes narrowed and Keith could see his nostrils flare. “You don’t like her. Why?” 

 

“Yes! No!” Recklessly, Keith threw caution to the wind. “I don’t like her. She rubs me the wrong way.” He took a deep breath and plunged on in, he wanted to grab Lance and shake him until his brain rattled but all he had to fight this battle with were words -- Frankly, not his weapon of choice. “Ever since the moment she laid eyes on you in the beginning I’ve been getting bad vibes and she’s with you every single minute of the day.” 

 

The sour taste of bile was in the back of his throat and the sheer resentment of having the devious little alien in their lives was threatening to choke him. “It’s impossible to get you alone for even a minute without her butting in. I’ve been wanting five minutes of your time to tell you to be cautious and it’s taken Trill’ist calling a flippin’ three-hour meeting to give me the ability to do that!” 

 

His breath heaved. He’d gone too far, but he couldn’t stop. “She hangs on you.” The bitterness poured out like soured wine. “Her people are not touchy-feely like that. Take a look at Trill’ist and Barr’t’ist, they barely touch fingers in public.” It was true. He’d seen the others shaking their heads in disapproval of the way she behaved around the Blue Paladin. Hell, look at the way they’d reacted with a little nose-rub. Keith just wanted Lance to see it too.

 

He practically ignored the drop of Lance’s head, the tight pursing of his mouth, he couldn’t even see Lance’s eyes any more, they were squeezed tight. All Keith wanted to do was get Lance to understand. Internal warnings were beginning to signal him to stop, but he couldn’t. “She laughs at your stupid jokes. All of your stupid jokes. No one does that, Lance, not even Hunk. There is no way she is really interested in you as a person.” 

 

Lance’s clenched fists dropped to his sides and his arms shook in barely-controlled tremors. "What do you know?” his voice stiff with increasing pain. “Nothing!” The tight, choked tone ripped at Keith’s heart and he wished with all his heart that this conversation was being held with anyone but him. No one else would have botched it this badly.

 

“Why can't you let me have this?” Every word, thick with suppressed tears, “Why are you always so set on spoiling everything for me? Why is it that any time something good happens for me, you’re there with a cutting remark to ruin it?" The tight, pinched set of his lips set the warning signals blaring in Keith’s mind.

 

“Lance, I don’t…” It was a desperate attempt to start over, he stepped closer.

 

“Yes! You do, Keith. All the time.” He hiccuped and then continued. “You’re always putting me down. And I get it,” he laughed, “I’m not nearly as talented as you are and I’m not as naturally attractive as you, with your smouldering, dark, emo looks; but I’m worth something, Keith! I’m sorry if you don’t see that but I am!” 

 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his voice down, “Just… let me have this, ok?” It was a  plea from the depths of his soul and Keith wanted nothing more than for Lance to be happy, but he just knew this woman would ruin him.

 

“Lance,” Keith felt his heart plummet, “I can’t. She's using you. I’m sure of it. She's going to hurt you and I can't just stand by and let that happen!"

 

He choked out a weak, desperate chuckle. “Ahh. I get it. You're jealous!” Lance shook his head ruefully and his hands unclenched, “I finally have a girl paying attention to me and you’re jealous. You just want to spoil it because you can't stand seeing me happy for once in my life." The smirk crept back onto his face, and if the relaxed pose he adopted was just a little too tense to be genuine, it might still have fooled some...

 

Keith sputtered. That was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Once more he tried to reason with him. "She's bad, Lance. I've seen her when you're not looking,” He took a deep, steadying breath, “I'm telling you.” with great effort, he kept his voice as steady and as calm as possible. 

 

“I'm your friend.” Absolutely true. Keith considered himself Lance’s friend even if Lance had always pushed that silly rivalry thing. It was annoying but Lance brought out things in Keith he’d long suppressed. Good and bad. The good things were worth holding onto.

 

“I'm your partner.”  _ Loaded statement. Do not go down that path any farther. _

 

“We've been through hell together and I can't believe you won't even take my warning into consideration." This was the part that dismayed Keith the most about the entire situation.  _ I’ve always had your back in the past… why can’t you see I’m trying to watch it now? _

 

Lance was having none of it. "Show me your proof. If you're accusing her of heinous acts, prove it." 

 

Keith sighed, "I don't have any. I just have this gut feeling... every time I see her I just..."

 

Lance interrupted, “...try to falsely accuse her because you don't like her."

 

That was it. Finally, Keith’s temper snapped. “It’s not just because I don’t like her! Hell, I don’t like  _ you _ half the time.”

 

“Well! There it is.” Lance’s tone was filled with bitter smugness. Keith didn’t like him, and didn’t like the girl he was seeing so there was obviously no point to this conversation. He was dismissing the whole issue.

 

Desperate to get his point across and angry for reasons he couldn’t exactly articulate, Keith yelled at the top of his lungs, "Dammit, YOU DESERVE BETTER!"

 

Lance yelled back, "Well, I DON'T HAVE BETTER!” After a few heaving breaths he continued coldly at a lower volume, “And I probably won’t find it out here.”

 

Keith’s voice was as cold as the cinders in his heart. “Well, you won’t find it from her.”

 

His world exploded in a wave of bright pain.

\-----

 

Shiro held Keith’s chin in the cool fingers of his prosthetic hand and carefully turned his head from side to side, using the bright lighting of the med bay to evaluate the damage. “Well, that’s as straight as I can get it. An hour in the pod will get it healed up and it won’t affect your pretty looks too much.” He raised his eyebrow in that annoying older-brother-pseudo-commander way, “Do you want to elaborate on why Lance punched you in the face and broke your nose?”

 

Keith pulled himself out of Shiro’s loose grip and tried to ignore the painful throbbing of his face while he pulled the pod-suit on.

 

“No, Shiro.  I really don’t.”

 

\----------

 

The next day, Keith stared out the window into the star-dotted blackness. It suited his mood… empty.

 

Talking about it might have helped, if he had anyone he felt comfortable enough with to open up about the things he was feeling. Lance? No way. Keith shied away from that like a calf from an electric fence. Pidge was equally out. She was more likely to laugh than help. Hunk was… biased. And then there was Shiro; even the one person on this crew he felt closest to was not someone he wanted to discuss this particular subject with. The only other options were non-human and how could he even hope for advice from an alien when others of his own species wouldn’t understand?

 

Dark room suited his dark mood.

 

The door slid open on its silent tracks, the faint whoosh of air displacement preceded the soft footfall of someone entering his domain. Well, to be honest, the Lower Observation Deck was common ground and anyone could use it. It was only pique that made him declare it “his” at this moment.

 

“Red Paladin?” It was the soft lilt of a Car’iti.

 

Keith raised his head and turned to face the visitor. Must be polite, no matter the personal circumstances. “Yes. What can I do for you?”

 

“My mother wanted you to have a copy of the list of trade items we are negotiating for, in case you see a potential opportunity that one of us may miss.” He walked almost silently over to the window and handed Keith a data pad. 

 

He took it absently and tucked it into his belt, returning his attention to the window. “Thank you. I’ll look at it later.” Still, the little alien stayed, shifting his weight from foot to foot until Keith gave an internal sigh and asked, “What else can I do for you?”

 

Now the bubbling excitement he was holding in simply exploded, filling the room with a flood of questions. “Have you seen the planet? I heard you went down there. I was hoping to see it from the window in here but I don’t see it. I saw our planet as we left. What does it look like? What are the Rexalans like?”

 

Keith’s eyes widened in mild alarm at the sudden barrage. It took him a moment to realize which of the delegates this was and only when he remembered him using the word “mother” did it click into place. This was Pidge’s little friend. “Whoa, Chur’ist. Please slow down. I’ll try to tell you as much as I can.” He looked around and spotted a couple of chairs. He dragged them over to the large window where the pair of them could look out as they talked.  At least they’d be comfortable. Keith had a feeling this would take a while.

 

Now, where to start? He could tell by the look in those eyes that this one would keep him talking all night if given the opportunity. How much would satisfy his thirst for knowledge and let Keith escape in a reasonable amount of time? 

 

“First off, the planet is blue. Really blue. It’s almost entirely water. That’s why we’re taking just the blue lion. Water is her element and she’ll be able to maneuver down there a lot better than the others.” -- _ That, and the paranoid natives would only allow one of the lions through their shield _ .-- “You can’t see the planet from here, we’re on the wrong side of the ship. You’ll get a good look as we go down, though. The Rexalans have a shield that’s even better than our castle’s particle barrier. I think that’s one of the technologies your mother wants to bargain for.”

 

Chur’ist nodded brightly, “It is. It is! That would keep our planet safe from any Galra reprisal force.” He paused. His crest drooped. “You said, water? All water? Will we be... _ under _ … the water?” He leaned forward and whispered in a panicked voice, “I can’t swim, Paladin. None of us can. Well, Mother might be able to but I don’t know. My sisters say she did some crazy things when she was young so I wouldn’t be surprised. But, in any event, I can’t swim.” 

 

He looked so scared, with his crest practically pressed down tight against his skull that Keith hastened to reassure him, “No, there’s no need to swim. The planet is mostly water, true, but the Rexalans’ city is in a dome under the water.  A dome of the same shielding that surrounds their planet. It will be perfectly safe for us inside. They breathe air the same way we do.” Then, remembering one of Hunk’s off-hand comments about giant Land-Amoebas, he added, “Well, not exactly the way we do, but they do breathe air. The Rexalans themselves are kinda squishy people. They change shape and grow tentacles as they need in order to hold things. So, they look quite different from us.”

 

Large, green eyes grew even larger. “And we’ll be down there tomorrow?”

 

Keith’s dark mood returned. Tomorrow. Of all the team, only he and Lance would be going down into that nest of distrust and suspicion; this was going to be unpleasant on multiple levels. 

 

The first unpleasantness: unlike most of the races the Voltron team came into contact with, the Rexalans had never been conquered by the Galra. They didn’t need Voltron’s help and so owed the team nothing. Not even respect. Only the old stories had given them any veracity at all. The only reason Lance and Keith were welcome was the fact that they were acting as escorts for the two ambassadors. Two ambassadors, two escorts. Shiro and the others would have to stay in the castle, on this side of that impenetrable shield. That was a long way away from any sort of back up.It would be up to the two of them to guard the Car’iti against any danger. 

 

They could do it. Keith had utmost confidence in their abilities. He and Lance had been training for these kinds of situations and they were ready. Ready, but for one, small problem. And that led to the second unpleasantness: how were they supposed to protect anyone if Lance refused to talk to him?

 

“Paladin?”

 

With a start, Keith’s attention was jerked back to the present and the large, dark room. “Oh. I’m sorry. I was thinking about… stuff.” Chur’ist cocked his head to one side and lifted a non-existent eyebrow. Keith knew that look. It was one of Pidge’s.  He saw why she got along with this little alien so well, they were two of a kind -- except Pidge had long ago stopped asking him questions. She had gotten tired of "I don't know" as an answer. 

 

“Yes. Tomorrow.” Keith managed to keep the sigh out of his voice. Tomorrow would be a long day.

 

\----------

 

Keith stood beside Lance. Standing shoulder to shoulder behind their respective delegates at the trade table, they looked like a pair of identical guards in matching armor of blue and red. The Car’iti ambassadors had even dressed in red or blue to match. If Pidge had been there, she would surely have made a cutting remark about the impressive tableau they made; right down to the paladins’ matching scowls.

 

Keith snuck another glance out of the corner of his eye at Lance. He couldn't help it, the Blue Paladin was somber and serious. It was an eerie sight. The mood didn’t suit him at all. Keith was used to confident smirks and the jokes that brought out the laugh-lines around his eyes. That  was more Lance’s style, not this angry, sullen ball of discontent. Keith’s stomach churned and his nose throbbed in remembered insult. He set his eyes forward again. He was a murderer; he'd killed Lance’s smile.  

 

Even standing only feet apart, the distance separating them now seemed insurmountable. Keith’s face continued to throb with phantom pains from the resolution of their last conversation. 

 

Lance was still angry over his accusation of Schee’rit and refused to spend even the smallest bit of time in his presence voluntarily. Keith was, at points, either increasingly furious because Lance was acting childish and wouldn’t listen to reason or disconsolate because he had hurt his friend so deeply and every time he attempted to fix it, he was brushed aside. It was enough to drive a person insane.

 

He glanced briefly at Ambassador Schee’rit; the indirect source of all his problems. She was currently arguing strongly with one of the Rexalans over the quantity of satellites they were willing to provide for the defense shield. “Look!” she insisted, grabbing a data-pad and typing out strings of numbers before shoving it across the table into the pseudopods of one of the Rexalans. “It can’t be done with that number of satellites! Our planet is 2% larger than yours and the shield has to be bigger!” Keith watched the large, amoeba-like being exude smaller pseudopods to tap its own reply out on the pad as it argued back in a whispery voice. “No.” she insisted, “You’re not taking into account the atmospheric envelope, either. Our is thicker.” Again she reached over the table and added another string of numbers.

 

Keith watched in bemusement as she slowly argued it down and got the number of satellites she wanted. And this wasn’t the first time she had won an argument in the last few days of negotiating. This was the other side of the devious and manipulative individual Keith sensed was under that blindingly attentive and sweet face she never dropped in Lance’s presence. It was driving Keith mad that he hadn’t yet been able to get a handle on  _ why _ she behaved this way. 

 

She seemed to be a diametrical opposite to Trill’ist. The older Car’iti female sat back in her chair, calm and unruffled. She let Schee’rit protest and haggle, throw her hands in the air and do everything but call the Rexalans thieves and swindlers. When Schee’rit’s tactics stalled, Trill’ist would intervene; sooth ruffled crests and agitated pseudopods with her steady reasonableness and then guide them right into the same deal the younger woman had been demanding in the first place, easily granting concessions that Keith knew, by reading her briefs and reviews, they had intended on the entire time.

 

They worked surprisingly well together. A well-oiled team that played off of each other as if they’d been doing it for years. Perhaps the Voltron team would be like that, given time. That is, if he could ever get one part of the team to speak to him again.

 

\------

 

Another dinner. This time to celebrate the end of the negotiations. The room’s mood was light, one of relief and satisfaction. The smiles and lifted crests around the table indicated a general mood of pleasure with the trade deal they had hammered out over the last few days. Keith sighed and tried to roll his shoulders surreptitiously to release the tension that was built up there. He felt three satisfying cracks as his spine realigned itself. There would be one more day to review and go over each article of the agreement and ensure the documents were translated correctly in both languages; then a day of formality and ceremonial signing. Finally, after that they could go home.

 

Tonight he was seated next to Ahr’rin’ist, the young male Schee’rit had slapped in the hallway. Even after Trill’ist’s discouraging assessment of the male’s personality, he tried for over a week to get a decent conversation out of the determinedly reserved Car’iti and discover exactly what Schee’rit had been wanting him to do for her. 

 

Keith had finally given it up as a lost cause. He would have better luck prying a secret out of Pidge. Ahr’rin was the mate of Trill’ist’s eldest daughter and a botanist. After all his effort, that was still the sum of Keith’s knowledge. 

 

He suspected Ahr’rin was here with the party by his mate’s request. Unconfirmed, because the male simply kept to himself and did not mingle. During the negotiations, Ahr’rin had been working on negotiating for replacements for medicinals and discovering what bounties in the vast Car’iti forests the Rexalans would be interested in. After giving it one more try tonight to draw him into conversation, Keith surrendered to the inevitable and let him be.

 

His eyes flicked over the table, settling always one one individual more often than the others. Keith still watched Schee'rit -- much to Lance's annoyance, and as Keith took a smug drink of his water, probably the female Car’iti’s as well. They didn't go anywhere without him tagging along. As he looked at her, sitting next to Chur’ist at the table, he was surprised she didn’t look happier. Trill’ist certainly seemed pleased, so the frown couldn’t be over the results of the negotiations. 

 

The ancient Matriarch had spent much of the prior evening teasing Keith about his love life and trying to set him up with one of her daughters. It had been an uncomfortable conversation and Keith could feel his ears heating just thinking about it. She had refused to be diverted! Every excuse he came up with, she suddenly had another daughter/ niece/ granddaughter that would be perfect for him.  _ How many female relatives did she have? _ Barr’t’ist’s sly chuckles hadn’t helped. After Keith had once more assured the Car’iti he had no romantic interest in his mate, things were settled and the atmosphere between them was much more relaxed.

So, between the nauseating romance of Schee’rit and Lance, Trill’ist’s matchmaking, and the cooing, dove-bird antics of the newlyweds, Keith found himself fighting off unexpected, crushing bouts of loneliness. He wanted a relationship like the Matriarch’s even though it was something he had given up on finding for himself years ago. He found that after Lance stopped talking to him, he actually  _ missed _ the constant jokes and teasing. Somehow, as obnoxious as it was, it filled a hole in his life and now that they were at odds… Keith mentally shook himself and searched for something to divert his attention and keep himself from travelling farther down that mental path.

 

It didn't take much, his recent obsession and puzzle was always close at hand. Sitting with Lance, who was hovering on her other side, it was incomprehensible to him why Schee’rit still looked displeased about something. It was strange behavior for someone who was about to become a hero of her people. She was about to have everything she ever wanted: she would easily be able to start a household and have males flocking to dance before her door, she could make a name for herself based on this negotiation alone. And Keith, being a fair-minded person at heart, had to admit she'd done her job well.

 

So why the drooping crest and the look of desperation she was trying to hide? Keith might have missed it if he hadn't been reading her moods for weeks now. It was puzzling to say the least. Even Lance seemed concerned. He kept giving her one new beverage to try after another. She would give him a weak smile and pretend to take a sip, agreeing that indeed, it was delicious. The moment he turned away and everyone’s attention was off of her, she would pour the contents surreptitiously into Chur’ist’s cup.

 

Keith was distracted for a few moments by Trill’ist suggesting the Voltron team come visit her household for a week or so after they returned. She went on for a few moments, describing the local sights and a festival due to begin shortly after their return. He was unsurprised when, with a wicked smirk, she mentioned yet another granddaughter that she’d like him to meet. Perhaps to even take to said festival? Distracted and uncomfortable, he missed the moment the young Car’iti took a drink from that dangerously mixed cup.

 

A crash of dishware summoned everyone’s attention to the other end of the table. 

 

“Stop flirting with her! You are not worthy of this beautiful lady’s attentions. I am tired of your boasting and your unbelievable stories.” Chur’ist had knocked his chair back and now stood with claws displayed, practically snarling at the startled Blue Paladin over the head of Schee’rit, who looked just as stunned as the human next to her. “Stop trying to win her affections with your smiles and your pretty words. You can’t provide for her. You can’t understand her needs, or her desires. And you will fly off to some other planet and leave her alone and in mourning. I won’t stand for it!” 

 

Keith was astounded. Chur’ist was working himself up into a fury, crest enlarged in what was obviously a threat-display. This was far more intense than what had happened to him. He carefully pushed his chair back in order to be ready in case the small alien attacked the Paladin. Someone might get hurt and that would be terrible. The only good thing about this situation was there were no Rexalans in the room to witness it. Although, there were security cameras everywhere so there would be witnesses after all. Best to prevent any  _ physical _ confrontations.

 

Ahr’rin snapped something at him in their own language, but Chur’ist continued his rant. “I won’t let some Alien take someone so precious from us. I will fight for her, I will dance for her, and I will win her affection myself!” His voice rose in pitch, his statement ending in a passionate trill.

 

“Whoa, little buddy. There’s no need for all that!” Lance had also scooted his chair back, his empty hands held up in front of him. His eyes flicked to Keith’s, and Keith read his intentions as they’d done a thousand times before. With a pair of tiny nods, there was an instant of understanding between them. All their differences were set aside in this moment. Whatever happened, the two of them would do their best to keep anyone from getting hurt. 

 

In this midst of this building tension, Schee’rit calmly stood. She placed her hand upon the young male’s chest and like a lightning rod, she drew the collective attention of the entire room to herself. Some time during the proclamation of affection and challenge, she had recovered from the shock, assessed the situation and devised a way to disarm it. Again, Keith had to admire her for that. Shifting her hand carefully to the agitated male’s arm, she spoke soft words, “It is quite all right, Chur.” 

 

Keith could almost feel his eyebrows rise into his hairline. Dropping the family honorific off of Chur’ist’s name was ripe with potential meaning. He resisted glancing at Trill’ist to see the matriarch’s reaction. This was too loaded of a situation to tempt fate by dropping his guard.

 

“Why don’t you come with me?” she continued. “We’ll discuss this. You.. and I.” Silky tones soothed the inner beast and his crest dropped from a threat-display into an expression of eager interest as his glazed focus shifted from Lance to Schee’rit. She smiled, picked up both their cups and motioned for him to follow as she stepped away from the table. He did, practically stumbling over his own feet in his haste to catch up with her, the love-sick look in his eyes giving Keith a twisting knot in his gut as he watched the door close behind them.

 

There was a moment of quiet tension before the room exploded in questions. Keith had about a thousand of them, himself; and this might have been a chance to get some information out of Ahr’rin, but Keith needed answers of a different sort and he knew someone that was better equipped to provide them. He slipped out of the room to place a private call.

 

\------

 

“And so, while I understand their concern, I don’t really get why they’re  _ so _ upset about him being with her. Certainly it’s better than her being with Lance, isn’t it?”

 

The connection was staticky but Keith could clearly make out the worry and dismay on Pidge’s face. “Honestly, sometimes you’re more socially-dense than Lance is.” Well. That stung. Before he could retort she continued, “You don’t get it, Keith. There is no way on Earth -- or any other planet -- that Chur’ist would ever do that. His family is right to be worried about his sudden love declaration. Chur’ist doesn’t  _ like _ girls. He lives in the  _ Bachelor’s Hall _ . His  _ Partner _ is waiting for him back home.” She took a deep breath and gave him a meaningful look. “Dude. He’s as gay as a rainbow. There is no way he would fall in love with Schee’rit” 

 

If it had been less serious, she may have cackled in delight over his open-mouthed expression of shock. Instead, she ran her fingers through her rumpled hair and sighed. “So, what happened right  _ before _ he decided Lance was a threat to their way of living?”

 

Now uncomfortable, because he really should have seen that, Keith struggled to mentally recreate the moments right before. “I was talking to Trill’ist and she was mentioning a festival… but right before that the last thing I remember was Schee’rit pouring her drink into whatever was in Chur’ist’s cup.” Keith was fairly sure they had been two different drinks. 

 

Pidge nodded and said emphatically, “And that is why I told you, specifically, not to drink anything down there that wasn’t clearly labeled as water. There’s info in the database warning Galra away from a handful of chemicals on that planet. Most of them seem to be as common as alcohol is on Earth.” 

 

Keith nodded to acknowledge her smug foreknowledge. “Yes, yes. I’ve been careful. Good thing Lance doesn’t have to worry about it. What has that got to do with it?”

 

“I’m going to chalk your denseness up to worry because even you are not normally this oblivious.” She glared at him through the static. “See if you can get ahold of whatever was in his cup. If not, I want to know which two beverages went in there.”

 

Keith bit his lip. “I’m not sure but she may have done that more than once. There might have been several things in his cup.”

 

Pidge let her head drop to the console. She mumbled, “Why do you never make things easy for me?” She lifted her gaze and shot him daggers. “Do you think you can manage to at least get me a list of everything on the table?” 

 

Keith sighed and nodded. “Yeah. and I’ll see if I can have someone send you a ‘nonexistent-but-we-know-it’s-there’ security feed of the room.”

 

Pidge scoffed. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll only bungle that. I’ll hack in and grab it myself.”

 

“From there?”

 

“Who do you take me for?”

 

“Fair point. I’ll see about that list. Thanks for letting me know that about Chur’ist.” He paused for a moment and whispered, “I wish you guys were down here with us. I have a bad feeling.”

 

“You’ve had a bad feeling for weeks now. But, for once I think you may be right.” She looked thoughtful and her glasses glinted in the light from the screen. “I’ve got your back, bud. Give a shout if you need us.”

 

His anxiety lessened a smidge. “Thanks, Pidge. You’re the best.”

  
“Don’t you forget it!” She tossed him a jaunty wave before the screen went blank in another burst of static.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some times it's really hard, as an author when something you worked so hard at gets no response at all. And that, my friends, is why I don't write chapter-by-chapter. Otherwise I would have abandoned this after chapter 1.
> 
> But, funny story. I was in the middle of writing "Unspoken Words" - which is my half-finished story on Keith's scars when I realized... I needed to write Lance's stuff out first because I needed it for frame of mind references.  
> So, with great irritation I set that story aside and wrote this one. Which grew into a huge monster. Ah, but I love this one because it has so much in it that sets the base for all the stories to come. 
> 
> And, as it's all finished, It'll be posted here, even if not another person read and likes it other than me.


	4. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover the lovely Schee'rit's plans and Lance realizes that perhaps Keith was right about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. Things are rolling now.  
> The plot progresses - at speed.

CHAPTER 4 - Betrayal

  


    Lance wore a bemused smile as Schee'rit tugged him down the hallway by one arm. She certainly was in a hurry this morning! In a happy daze, he finished buckling his armor as they walked, Schee’rit increasing their pace with every few steps. Lance had only been partially dressed when she had knocked insistently on his door. Even moving as fast as he could, she had still grown impatient with him and as a consequence, although his armplates were on correctly, he had left his helmet behind. Ah well. He probably wouldn’t need it.

 

    She pulled again, urging him to a faster pace as they rounded a corner in the hallway and he chuckled while protesting her hurry, “Hey now, what’s got you so fired up today? Why are we in such a rush?” The negotiations were over, they would be heading back to Carita in a few days to drop off the delegates and then zoom off to save more of the universe. It was good to be a paladin. Even better to be a paladin with an adoring, lovely lady waiting for him to return.

 

True, there had been that slight hiccup last night with Chur’ist, but Schee had spent the evening with _him_ and not the young male. She had also reassured him that there was nothing between them. It was just a crush on his part and he would get over it. Besides… if Lance was going to come back to Carita and live with her, he supposed he’d have to get used to the way powerful Matriarchs had harems.  Him, part of a harem… that was funny. He’d always imagined having one, not being part of one.

 

    Tugging harder, because he had slowed down, Schee’rit chittered angrily at him in her own language. Remembering who he was, she took a breath, calmed herself, and switched to a language he could understand, “We have to get to the chemical refabrication lab quickly. They have the formula ready for the sample I gave them yesterday and I want to pick it up!”

 

    “Why didn’t they just send it to you?” It seemed a rather obvious solution but according to the look of exasperation she gave him, apparently it wasn’t.

 

    “I also want to get my sample back, of course.”

 

    “Ah. I see.” He didn’t. Why couldn’t they just send that back too? But then, he often didn’t understand why she did things; he just went along with it. Keith’s little nagging voice in the back of his head pointed out that just going along with whatever someone else wanted to do wasn’t a smart thing. Lance frowned. Even in his own head, Keith was trying to break the two of them up, but still, that was a good point. “So, what’s this a sample of? Is it important?” He tried to keep the question casual. Sometimes Schee’rit got irritated if his questions got too personal.

 

    She hurried them both onto a slideway and as it picked up speed, transporting them across the city to the lab in question, she finally answered. “Yes. It’s very important. It’s the cure for a plague that’s been cropping up in our villages since the Galra came and cut off our trade with other planets. We’ve lost the ability to manufacture it ourselves and there was only one sample left. I brought it to have it replicated. There’s an outbreak on our planet now. I need to get this back home as soon as possible.” She stepped off the slideway with agile grace when they reached the laboratory and he followed her, nodding. That was a good reason. Lance was relieved. Once again, Keith was just being paranoid and overreacting.

 

    Lance opened the door for her and bowed her through. “Ladies first.”

 

\-----

 

    Keith was ready to spit nails. He would have kicked Lance’s forgotten helmet across the room if he hadn’t already been scolded once by Allura --and Hunk-- for doing that to his own and breaking the delicate circuitry. You’d think the things would be more resilient if they were meant to protect your head. Instead he just stared daggers at it and fumed as he buckled up his own armor. Lance _would_ run off while Keith was in the shower so he couldn’t be followed.

 

    He noted that there was also a shrill, piercing shriek hanging in the air this morning and it did not improve his mood. In fact, it was giving him a fierce headache. He paused for a moment in his pacing; uneasy questions lurked in the dim, back corners of his mind. Was the sound an alarm? Was there some danger he was unaware of?  Decided, Keith slammed his helmet on and summoned his bayard before opening the door to the hallway.

 

    The hallway was empty. There was no sign of smoke or attack or of danger in any form. That didn’t mean Keith dropped his guard -- Just because you couldn’t see the danger didn’t mean it wasn’t there. The sound was clearer out here. It was coming from the direction of… the Car’iti delegation’s quarters. Dread wormed an ice-cold finger down his back.

 

    It was good that their door was unlocked. It saved him time and the trouble of breaking it down.

 

    Paranoia fueling his imagination, the sight that greeted him was rather anti-climatic. He had expected an invading force of Galra drones, a swarm of venomous insects, a ticking time bomb...instead it was just the three Car’iti males huddled together in a group in the middle of the floor.

 

    They were the source of the piercing noise. Crests slicked back, eyes pinched closed, heads thrown back and a keening whistle coming from each of their throats in a discordant tone that resonated in the back of Keith’s teeth.

 

    He took it all in with a moment’s glance and then scanned the rest of the room for danger. All the doors to the bed chambers were closed save one. Trill’s door was open. Keith’s chest tightened. _Why are they all sitting out here crying? Where is Trill?_  Expecting the worst, he sidestepped the group in the middle of the room and approached the open bedroom door.

 

    It was horrible.

 

    There was no broken furniture. No disorder. Everything was exactly where it should be. The nest was tidy and the formal robes to be used later were hanging neatly on wall hooks. A tea service with a half-eaten pastry was sitting on the small table. In fact, the only signs of anything being amiss at all were limited to a small blood spot on the wall and Trill’ist herself, laying quiet and still in the white bedding of the nest.

 

    Trill’ist, who was never still, or quiet.

 

    “No…”

 

    He dismissed his bayard and three stumbling strides later, he was kneeling beside her pale, unresponsive form. Keith brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. His shaking fingers revealed the truth his eyes wanted to deny: her soft skin was cool and the scales on her cheeks were dry, flaking off to cling to his skin like glitter. Her gentle warmth was missing, along with her mischievous smile. Even not knowing anything about the physiology of her species, he could tell -- she was gone.

 

    Keith could feel a tight, piercing sound burning in his throat. As his eyes prickled with moisture, it clawed his way out. He picked up her limp hand as the sorrow found its way out and his voice melded with the discordant cry from the other room.

 

    Time was irrelevant, only the agony of loss mattered and the anger it bred; even the possible threat of her attacker still being within the vicinity seemed a far-off worry. Keith had no idea how long he knelt there with her tiny, clawed hand limp in his own. The silence around him slowly woke him to the fact that the piercing keening was gone and the only voice he could still hear was his own. Throat raw, nose stuffed and dripping, he snuffled as he opened his eyes and looked back towards the door, cursing his stupidity. The attacker could still be in the suite!

 

    In the doorway, three wide-eyed faces stared at him in open astonishment. Barr’t was the first to speak, “You...sing for her?” There was hesitant awe in his voice.

 

    “Barr’t,” Keith buried the sorrow as deeply as he could and let the anger rise up to take its place. “What happened?” He rose and crossed the room, wiping the tears and other things from his face with the back of his gloved hand. He pushed the sorrowing aliens back away from Trill’s room as gently as he could, closing the door behind him. He waited, almost patiently, as her mate tried to collect himself.

 

    It was Chur’ist that managed to speak first. “We don’t know,” he squeaked. Keith let his attention swivel from Trill’s mate to her son. His crest was pressed down so firmly in dismay that it appeared to be almost nonexistent. “Mother was very upset last night…” Keith nodded. This he knew. Even the thick walls hadn’t been able to completely block the angry whistles and shrieks of the argument that had gone on in the next-door suite last night.

 

    “This morning, she and Schee’rit sat down for another talk. Matriarch to Matriarch.” Keith raised an eyebrow. That would have been one intense conversation. “They were in the room for quite a while.” He glanced towards the closed door then back to Keith. “Schee’rit came out not too long ago and closed the door very quietly. She smiled at me. She said everything would be all right and Mother wasn’t mad any more. And she said that Mother wanted to take a nap before the signing ceremony…” His voice trailed off in a trill of distress.

 

    Keith took a moment to remind himself that Chur’ist was under the influence of something and wasn’t himself right now. He took a deep breath, biting back his impatience and the desire to yell at them for letting that little snake anywhere near the older female without someone else being  there. He took another deep breath. They hadn’t known. They hadn’t suspected. He had been the only one who had seen this coming. It was his responsibility for letting this happen.

 

    Barr’t pulled himself back together enough to continue although the tremble in his voice was an indicator that it would take very little for him to lose his composure again. “I went to check on her and see if she wanted anything else for breakfast… She was lying against the wall. There was blood…” He closed his eyes and swallowed several times. Keith struggled to choke back the tears as well. “I moved her into the bed. She was still breathing. But... not for long.” His head fell to his chest and his small, piteous cries broke Keith’s heart even further.

 

    If Schee’rit had killed Trill’ist, Keith wouldn’t let her get away with it. He turned to Chur’ist. The boy was heartbroken but as obsessed as he was with Schee’rit right now, he was the most likely to know her whereabouts. “Where did she go this morning?”

 

    A blank stare. Keith counted to ten. Twice. He resisted the urge to grab him and shake him out of the shock.

 

    “Chur’ist,” he began again, quietly, and knelt down in front of the little alien. “I need you to tell me where she went and if Lance was with her.” _Of course Lance was with her._  “Please. So I can keep everyone else safe.”

 

    Dull, green eyes blinked slowly. His voice was as lackluster as his gaze. “The Research Laboratory. And yes, the blue one was with her.”

    Keith cursed internally but smiled and patted Chur’ist gently on the shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll take care of this now. You stay here, lock the door, and keep the others safe until I return. Can you do that, Hunter?”

 

    At the invocation of his duty and being given a task, a spark flickered into life in the back of his eyes. He nodded, pulling himself up taller and taking a deep breath.

 

    “Good man.”

 

    Keith took one more look around the room, placed a comforting hand on Barr’s shoulder and gave Ahr’rin a significant look. He nodded back gravely. Yes, Barr would be taken care of.

 

    After checking to be certain the door was locked behind him, Keith took a deep breath, allowing the angry fires to swell up. He clicked his comm unit on as he stalked down the hallway, “Pidge! Good. Glad you’re listening. I need you to track Lance for me. He doesn’t have his helmet on so you’ll have to go through the data-link in his suit. Yeah…. We’ve got a bit of a situation down here. Gonna need your help…”

 

\----------

 

    Lance was bored. Bored out of his skull as he waited for Schee’rit to finish grilling the Rexalans technician over the details of the chemical formula and the process to reproduce it. It seemed like a lot of fuss for something they could argue about over the interstellar communications channels. He sat on the counter and drummed his heels against the cabinet.

 

    And, like an earworm, Keith’s comments from the previous night kept digging their way into his brain.

 

_Exasperated, Keith had finally cornered him and Lance had to stand there, backed up against a wall, while Keith went off about the girl he liked. “Lance, for the love of little apples, when was the last time she did anything for you. Anything you wanted to do? As far as I can tell, it’s all about her wants. Her needs. And -- you cater to her smallest whim.”_

 

_That was an uncomfortable observation and something Lance had been trying not to notice. Keith kept on driving the pick in deeper, though, “Other than lavish praise about your piloting skills and good looks, what are you getting out of this relationship?”_

 

    Not at all pleasant and after being interrupted a few times, Lance had given up on trying to defend Schee'rit to his fellow paladin. Of course she liked him! Lance scoffed. Keith was being completely unreasonable. Frustrated, but unwilling to end this argument with another punch to the face, Lance had clammed up tighter than a pouting oyster and Keith had finally thrown up his hands in defeat and stomped off to his bedroom, kicking a chair on the way and slamming the door behind him.

 

    Sitting here now, kicking his heels, waiting and watching her as she yelled at an amorphous blob… it was harder to deny Keith’s observations.

 

    Finally, the Rexalan turned and left the room with an undulation that gave Lance the impression it was peeved over something. But thoughts about Rexalans quickly vanished; Schee’rit was smiling at him.

 

    “I’m ready to go now, the quicker we get back to my planet, the faster we’ll be able to create this vaccine and cure that plague.” She was all happy smiles again.

 

    Lance nodded uneasily. There was something about that statement that wasn’t sitting quite right with him and the nagging Keith-voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let it go.

 

    “How many people did you say were in that affected village?”  
  
    “Dozens.” She tugged at him to get up.

 

    “Wouldn’t it be a lot more than that in order for it to be called a plague?” He reluctantly rose to his feet.

 

    Now she looked exasperated. “Well of course. There are lots of cases all over the planet!”

 

    Lance’s eyebrows creased. “If there are that many shouldn’t we be taking back a lot of supplies? I mean, all you have is that one little flask there. And, wouldn’t it take time to manufacture that here?”

 

    Now she stared at him with narrowed, green eyes and he could almost see her thinking before her expression cleared. “Well of course! Fortunately we can make this elixir with ingredients all native to our world! Isn’t that wonderful?” His stomach flipped. He really didn’t want Keith to be right.

 

    “Then why don’t we just send the formula back to your planet by communication’s link and they can get started on making it while we finish up here and sign the treaty? What’s the big rush?” It sounded reasonable to him. Really, her fussing and pushing him over something that they could have put in the works with just a call to Pidge yesterday was slightly annoying. Could she actually be as self-centered and manipulative as Keith claimed?

 

    Her mouth opened nothing came out. Lance’s heart sank as he watched her searching for an answer. Apparently, there wasn’t one. Lance had found an unfillable hole in her plan. For the first time, he confronted his own feelings and demanded an accounting.

 

    He's had doubts, and had been fiercely pushing them away, for some time now. When had they started? Had it been before the horrible argument where he had hit Keith? After? A tiny worm of guilt had been eating at him over that. He couldn’t believe that he’d actually hit _Keith_ ! Mama had taught him to keep his temper better than that but, he’d been so dang _infuriatingly sure he was right!_

 

    His gut churned, the doubt setting into the pit of his stomach like a stone. He felt ill, he wanted to to puke and get the sour taste of betrayal out of the back of his throat where it was burning.

 

_Stupid idiot. This whole time… she’s probably been using you. It might have been a sham right from the beginning when you were stupid enough to butt in front of Keith in the receiving line and smile at her pretty little face._

    Mentally, he took a step back to reexamine the last few weeks. Had he been that oblivious?  Or, a tiny flame of hope surged in his breast, had Keith been exaggerating? It was possible. Keith was a known loner. He might have misunderstood.

 

    After consideration, Lance had to reluctantly admit that no, her feelings for him were probably not all that deep; she was an alien after all. _As Keith had been so kind as to point out… repeatedly…_

 

    Lance snorted. What did Keith know? Someone as dedicated to the lovelies of the universe as Lance was should be able to tell the difference between lighthearted flirting and true love, right? Better than a desert shack-dweller, anyhow. Right? Well, maybe. A niggle of doubt crept in and tainted that surety too. He wasn't _that_ experienced with what love felt like…

 

    Maybe he was too shallow of a person to ever know real, true love? No. He wasn't shallow, he was just as capable of caring for someone with all his heart and soul as anyone else. Right?

 

    Then again, Lance thought, after this fiasco, maybe I'm not as good of a judge of character as I thought… I guess Keith is better at this, too. That was a depressing thought. Keith just seemed to be naturally better at everything, no matter how hard Lance tried.

 

    He took a deep breath and watched Schee'rit's face as she tried to come up with a story. Ok, maybe she'd been lying about her feelings. Heck, Lance had done that himself. Lots of times. That didn't make her the horrible, evil being that Keith had implied she was, right? It was entirely possible that she did have some affection for him, even if it wasn’t ‘love’ in the sense humans understood.

 

    Still struggling with his own, conflicting emotions, Lance never actually heard whatever story Schee’rit was concocting to explain why the Blue Paladin should take her home right this minute. Fate, or misfortune chose that moment to intervene. The door to the lab burst open, slamming back against the wall as a snarling Red Paladin stormed in. Lance’s blood chilled. Something was very, very wrong. He hopped down off the countertop. “Keith! What’s happened? What’s…”

 

    He never finished asking. Instead he had to grab the raging paladin to prevent what would certainly have been a disastrous encounter between him and the ambassador. Schee’rit slipped behind him almost smugly as he grabbed Keith by the shoulders and held him off. “Keith! What the heck, man?”

 

    Keith’s lips were curled back in a silent snarl, but he didn’t push any farther. “Ambassador Trill’ist is dead, Lance.” his tone was low and empty. “This… person,” he spat, “was the last one to see her alive. I want answers. Now.” Lance felt the trembling growl all the way through his arms.

 

    “Dead?” Lance's mind whirled like leaves in a storm. “How in the world… no, never mind. We’ll get your answers.” He kept his voice calm and soothing,  “Just take it easy.”

 

    He turned back to Schee’rit, one hand still gripped tight in Keith’s armor. He caught just a glimpse of...something, directed at Keith, before the sweet mask of flirtatious innocence dropped back across her face. She smiled, disarmingly. This time, Lance’s internal alarms actually started working. This was a familiar expression. One he’d seen on his own sisters quite often; usually right before they tried wheedling their way out of trouble.

 

    “Lance, darling. I’m sure whatever the problem is, this brave and daring paladin can handle it on his own. You promised to take me home, remember?”

 

    No, he really didn't remember promising any such thing. She raised her crest and cocked her head becomingly to one side. Flirt. Lance noted that she was still carefully out of Keith’s reach, even as he shifted for a better grip on the Red Paladin as he tensed up. He could feel the anger and the determination radiating off of him. It made his own heart beat way too fast. This was rapidly escalating out of control.

 

    Lance strained to regain some sense in the situation, “Ok, everyone calm down. We’ll go back to the suites and get to the bottom of this.”

 

    “Fabulous idea. I’m certain Chur’ist would love to speak to her about what happened just before _she_ threw his mother into the wall.” Keith’s words were full of venom.

 

    Lance paled. _If that was true..._ Schee’rit merely ignored Keith’s words, turning her full attention, as well as her large, green eyes on Lance. “Paladin Lance! You promised.” She wheedled, “We need to leave now! There are lives at stake.” She stomped her pretty little foot in a temper. Or was it panic?

 

    Lance raised his eyebrows.. “Hey now, I’m sure this can wait for an hour or so. We’ll get everything cleared up then ask Allura to open us a wormhole and I’ll zoom you right home.” He tried a weak smile. “No problems.”

 

    Keith wasn’t as forgiving and he drilled right in to the point of the matter. “Ambassador,” he addressed her formally, “your colleague is dead. I am surprised at your apparent lack of concern.”

 

    Lance winced internally. That was a very good point.

 

    She gasped in astonishment and proceeded to protest again, “It’s an important drug! We need to get this right back to Carista as soon as possible! Tomorrow could be too late for some of the little fledgelings. Have you no heart? No compassion? As a Paladin of Voltron I thought the lives of others would mean more to you.”

 

    She continued on, but Lance had stopped listening about halfway through her impassioned tirade. Keith was still ready to launch himself at her and if Lance lost the surreptitious leverage that kept him in place for even one tick, he would be on her like a fighting dog on a rival. Lance gave his partner a warning squeeze while nodding and still giving the appearance of listening as she dug herself a deeper and deeper hole.

 

    “Schee’rit,” he finally interrupted quietly. “Please tell me what happened to Ambassador Trill’ist.”

 

    Her unexpected reaction hit him as if he had slapped her in the face. He watched with growing dread and horror as the pretty mask of civility fell from her face.

 

    She drew herself up and practically sneered at him. “You know, I really had wanted to do this the easy way.” She tossed a disdainful nod at Keith, “Even with his interference, it could have still gone smoothly if you had just minded me a little while longer. But no, you had to start questioning, and now you’ve ruined the whole thing.” Her crest rippled in a way that only compounded the nausea building in Lance’s gut as she laughed hollowly. “Fortunately this situation is still salvageable.”

 

    “Salvageable?” he echoed, like a stunned parrot. He had lost his hold on Keith but the other paladin seemed just as shocked as he was at her sudden change of colors.

 

    She rolled her eyes with a disdainful chitter. “I picked you out because you seemed to be the most dense, but really…” With an air of boredom, she sauntered slowly through the lab tables, picking up one bottle after another and glancing at them idly before setting them back down again. She smirked, “Why don’t you go ahead and explain it to him, Red boy?”  

 

    Keith growled. “She killed Trill’ist, Lance. Murdered her in cold blood.”

 

    “Please. You’re so dramatic.” She set a bottle down and fiddled with the lever on a tap. “It was actually an accident. The elderly are so fragile. You push them too hard and they hit their heads and just crumple.” She shrugged and left off playing with the tap to examine a few other valves on canisters near the door.

 

    Determined to wreak some vengeance for Trill, for Chur, for Lance, and not completely incidentally, that busted nose that Lance had given him on her behalf, Keith slipped out of Lance’s numb fingers and started inching around a table to get closer to her.

 

    She pulled out a very small, but still very efficient, Galra blaster and pointed it at Keith’s heart. “Oh no. You can stay right there. You’ve interfered enough.”

 

    Lance was frozen in shock. Where had she gotten that? Keith backed off but still snarled. “How long have you been working for them?”

 

_Them? He doesn’t mean… Oh, quiznack._

 

    She sneered right back at him. “You say that as if it were a choice for me.”

 

“They killed my mates and my family in front of me in cold blood. All of them, down to the smallest hatchling. They executed them in front of my house because I dared to abide by the traditions of my people instead of their commands. They left me sitting, alive, in the middle of the street with their broken bodies. It was a lesson to anyone else who might dare to go behind their backs.” Her voice soured, “A lesson my village learned well.”

 

    “Later, I tried to sneak in and poison the bastard commander who was responsible and I almost succeeded.” Her chin lifted with pride for a moment before dropping again. Her voice soured with self-loathing.

 

     “They caught me, of course. I was given the glorious choice of working for them or being executed myself.” Her harsh, tinkling laughter echoed in the room and made Lance nauseous.

 

    “Of course my village didn’t trust me after that. I was ‘nesting’ with the Galra. When the five of you came sailing in and rescued everyone, my own people tossed me out with the trash. Said I was ‘lucky’ they didn’t kill me along with my overlords. So kind of them, don’t you think?”

 

    She stroked the little blaster, almost caressing it. Lance was sickened. Apparently he really was bad at this reading people thing. How had he not seen this side of her? How had he missed this brewing madness that had been lurking under that pretty exterior. Keith had seen it; had tried to warn him. _This is bad. This is so, so bad. I am gonna owe him the biggest apology of all time. If we both survive this._

 

     “My ‘overlords’ didn’t let go so easily, of course, not even in defeat. They found me again. Forged some papers and sent me to the capitol in order to infiltrate this delegation and sabotage it.” Her eyes met Lance’s for a brief moment and he could see the desperate despair lurking in their depths.

 

    “We could help you, Schee’rit. Please let us help. If it was an accident, I’m sure they’ll understand…” Lance tried. He didn’t want this to end badly. He tried so hard.

 

    Her expression changed to one of utter disdain. “Go back, just to be shoved around in back alleys? Scorned or forgotten? Eventually murdered in my sleep?” the bitterness dripped from her words. “I killed the Matriarch of one of the most powerful houses on the planet!” a heavy layer of scorn colored her tone. “Forgiveness will not be an option. Thank you, but I believe I’ll pass.” She pulled a small, pink vial out of her vest and smiled at it. “I have other options now.” Lance recognized it as the one she’d gotten from the Rexalan earlier.

 

    “The mind-control drug that affected Chur’ist.” Keith declared. Lance gave him a startled glance but his attention quickly returned to the false ambassador.

 

    “That’s right!” she laughed. “I knew you were the clever one, from the very beginning.”

 

    “So, what’s your plan for it?” Keith had a feeling he knew but he wanted her to say it for Lance’s benefit.

 

    “I’ll go back, drop it in a few drinks, establish a household with powerful, adoring males and take over the government. The Galra will get their outpost, I will rule in their name, and everyone will be content and happy.”

 

    “You’re deluded.” Lance blurted out. The look he gave the Car’iti female was one of naked betrayal; something Keith hadn't seen on his face since Pidge took back the comic book she'd brought along before Lance had gotten a chance to finish it.

 

    “I’m sorry, Lance.” Keith’s voice was full of pain.

 

    Keith’s bayard trembled slightly and it drew Lance’s attention. The Red Paladin was so tense, so angry, he was barely holding himself back from the attack.  One that would be fatal for him, unless Keith could summon his shield to deflect Schee’rit’s blast, or manage to duck in time.

 

    Schee’rit held the blaster steadily trained on him, calm and almost bored, her little hand never wavering as she tucked the vial back in her pocket.

 

    It was a standoff. Lance didn’t have any idea how he was going to break it, or even if he should. If he did, there was a very high likelihood that someone would die.

 

    “Schee’rit. Honey. Let’s not be hasty about this,” Lance coaxed. “I’m sure we could work something out. You don’t have to go back home if you’ll be in danger. You could stay with m- us.” He cleared his throat, “Us. In the castle. There’s lots of room. No one would hurt you there. We’d protect you from the Galra.”

 

    “Speak for yourself.” Keith growled as he sidled a few more steps away from Lance, snaking his way around a lab table as he set up a flanking maneuver.

 

    “Keith,” Lance reprimanded. “You’re not helping.”

 

    Her blaster was still aimed at Keith, tracking his slow progress around the room, but the majority of her attention was now on Lance. “You just don’t ever give up, do you?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Always so positive about everything. You don’t get it. I don’t need your pity!” She fired a single shot that glanced off the corner of the table Keith was circling in order to get into a position of attack. He ducked behind it and Lance could imagine the violent swearing going on in his head.

 

    “Just like your partner, I see.” Her words meant nothing to Lance until he looked down and found himself holding a bayard-rifle he hadn’t realized he’d summoned. He stared at it in surprise. When he looked back up, her eyes were filled with poisonous, green ice.

 

    “Please,” he whispered, his heart almost breaking, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

    “Good, then that will make it easier for me to finish this.” She fired another shot at Keith as he tried to move from behind the safety of the table. Missed, but Keith was effectively pinned down.

 

    Lance raised his rifle in hands that shook. She looked at him with mock-pity and after tossing another power bolt in Keith’s direction, trained her weapon on him, instead.

 

    Both paladins froze.

 

    Schee’rit did not and the wall behind Lance, covered in shelf after shelf of glass bottles, exploded in wet, crackling shards.

 

    Lance flinched. “Cheese and Crackers!” he exclaimed as he ducked, summoning his shield. The barrage continued and only paused momentarily when Keith dashed out from behind the table with his own shield in hand. The momentary pause was Schee’rit pulling out a second blaster.

 

_Two? Where was she hiding two?_  

 

    Now she had them both pinned down. Or, she would have, if Keith was sensible enough to hide and not just continue to charge her! It was at that point that Lance realized she wasn’t really aiming at _him_ , only Keith. So, everything coming his direction was just cover-fire while she dealt with Madman Mullet.   
  
    He brought his bayard up and with a healthy sense of caution peered over the table to get a shot lined up. _Warning shot. Right between them. That should do it._  But Lance hadn’t counted on Keith’s speed.

 

    Every twist around a table, every snarling step brought Keith closer to Schee’rit and made her chances of missing him increasingly unlikely. It also made _Lance’s_ chances of missing him increasingly unlikely. Lance sweated.

  
_Too close, too close, tooclosetooclosetooclose!_  Keith was lining up for a sword stroke and his shield dipped that little bit too far. _No!_ In the second before she squeezed the trigger, on a shot that Lance could tell would be a killing blow, there was an ominous crack above and behind him. His finger convulsed on the trigger as he looked up in time to see an entire shelf, supports weakened by her blasts, peel itself off the wall. He didn’t even have time to bring his shield up before the falling darkness smothered him like a blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this looks like a lovely place to pause the story.  
> See you next week.


	5. Burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation with the deceitful Ambassador Schee'rit comes to a conclusion and Keith, with the rest of the team, struggles to save both Lance's life and the trade agreement.  
> \-----  
>  Only the loud, shattering crack of the shelf and the gut-wrenching thunder of glass slithering to the floor had broken him out of his rage. Or, perhaps it had been the panicked yelp of a familiar voice. Keith aborted his attack and looked across the room for Lance as a blue bolt of power flashed by his cheek.
> 
> And so Keith saw the large, glass canister full of unknown liquid slide slowly and gracefully down the collapsing shelf. It teetered on the edge, as if deciding the perfect course, before dropping off the brink and floating for an eternal moment before coming into contact with Lance’s bare head, shattering both itself, and possibly the Blue Paladin’s skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning* Graphic injuries. and Angst. Grab your tissue box.

CHAPTER 5 - Burned

  
  


Keith had managed to keep his ire at a raging simmer for the entire confrontation. He hadn’t even resisted too much when Lance had held him back from dealing out the summary justice that little witch deserved on the spot. But, when she’d started firing at sweet, caring Lance, who even after hearing about her horrible betrayal, was still trying to talk them to a peaceful resolution…  _ sweet idiot Lance… _ something inside him snapped.

 

Only the loud, shattering crack of the shelf and the gut-wrenching thunder of glass slithering to the floor had broken him out of his rage. Or, perhaps it had been the panicked yelp of a familiar voice. Keith aborted his attack and looked across the room for Lance as a blue bolt of power flashed by his cheek.

 

And so Keith saw the large, glass canister full of unknown liquid slide slowly and gracefully down the collapsing shelf. It teetered on the edge, as if deciding the perfect course, before dropping off the brink and floating for an eternal moment before coming into contact with Lance’s bare head, shattering both itself, and possibly the Blue Paladin’s skull.

 

Keith forgot all about vengeance. He forgot about the madwoman trying to kill him. He held just enough presence of mind in his mad dash across the room to dismiss his bayard rather than drop it.

 

When Keith got to him, Lance was laying face-down in a pool of swirling liquids and broken glass. The silence in the room was broken only by the constant drip of fluids from the broken containers on the shelves that hadn’t detached from the wall. Yet. With one wary eye on them, Keith knelt gingerly by Lance’s prone form, broken bottles crunching under his knees. A small trickle of blood created a red string that flowed into the slowly enlarging pool of fluids under Lance’s cheek.

 

Carefully, he turned Lance over, more concerned about the paladin possibly inhaling liquids than the growing lump on the back of his head.  _ You idiot. Why didn’t you grab your helmet this morning? _

 

As he eased Lance’s head into his lap, the sight of his slack face did not lessen a real and growing concern. They were in a chemical laboratory. There was no telling what was in any of the bottles that had been on the shelves that Schee’rit had destroyed with her blaster with such abandon. And as he tried to scrape some of the forming gelatinous goo off of Lance’s face, another concern was rising up to choke him.  _ There was no way to tell how any of those chemicals would react when mixed. _

 

Keith realized with a sudden and horrifying clarity that they might well be sitting on a time bomb. Any two… or more… of these chemicals could cause an explosion. They had to get out of there. Which was a good thought and one Keith was happily willing to embrace but first, “Lance, wake up.” With great concern, he wiped another blob of congealing liquid off Lance’s pale face.  Concern that swiftly ramped up to “panic” faster than the red lion could run through an asteroid field. 

 

Lance’s skin was peeling away with the substance. It was literally bubbling under Keith’s fingers and sloughing off. Keith could feel his heart twist in his chest. Breathing was not a possibility right now. “No…” Worst fears come true. Lance’s beautiful face that he took such great pains with to keep moisturized and exfoliated... The entire side that had been laying in the chemical soup was now disintegrating under Keith’s fingers. 

 

Chemical Lab protocols rambled through his mind in Hunk’s anxiety-riddled tones. Keith’s head shot up and he frantically scanned the room to find a decontamination station. Every lab should have one, even alien ones. The problem would be identifying it. He needed to get this stuff off of Lance as soon as possible but everything here was labeled in the strange script of the Rexalans and Keith couldn’t read it. 

 

One deep breath. Then another one.  _ Patience yields focus.  _ A seed of calm lodged in his brain and he was finally able to recall the one written word of the Rexalan language that he knew. A word Pidge had spent three ruthless days drilling into his head. 

 

Water. For him, the only thing on this besotted planet safe to drink. For Lance, possibly the only thing that could save his life.

 

Keith was beginning to wonder if the decontamination station was located out in the corridor when he spotted what might be a basin in an alcove covered in signs and script. Obviously instructions. The lack of anything else around it gave him hope. A glance down at Lance’s pustule-covered and swelling face gave him all the incentive he needed to risk it. 

 

He pulled Lance up and with one arm draped over his shoulders balanced him carefully against his hip before half-dragging him across the room. Long and lanky, the Blue Paladin still weighed more than Keith did and while Shiro or Hunk could carry him easily, Keith had some problems. Lance regained groggy consciousness with a pained groan about halfway to their goal. A groan that quickly escalated into a series of choppy, gurgling screams as his left hand flew up to his face. Keith had to pause and grab his hand before Lance made the situation worse. A feat not easily accomplished.

 

“Lance!” Keith practically yelled in his ear. “Stop. Don't touch it. Help is on the way. I need you to walk if you can. Can you do that, Paladin? Can you walk?” Keith did his best to imitate Shiro's command tone and was gratified when a whimpering Lance took some his weight on his own feet and tried a staggering step as Keith resumed hauling him across the floor. 

 

“Good. Very good. Ok, Lance, you've got gunk burning your face and I know it hurts. We’ll get it off. Whatever you do, just don't touch it! It'll only make it worse.” 

 

Lance continued to gasp and cry in shrill, pathetic tones that wrenched Keith's heart. Keith encouraged him with every faltering step and Lance kept his left hand tightly locked on Keith's chestplate all the way to the wash station.

 

By the time Keith got the two of them to their goal, he was hot and sweating and had probably pulled more muscles than at any point in their last 3 training sessions.It was with minor relief and a growing sense of urgency that he leaned Lance up against the basin and turned his attention to figure out the spigots.

 

__ _ Water… water... _

 

It took a few, tense moments of experimentation to find the water line. Keith found his hands shaking before he was done. The horrible variety of noises coming out of Lance didn’t help his nerves at all and only fueled the panic he was trying to suppress. Finally, Keith didn’t even wait for the basin to fill, he just grabbed the taller paladin by the back of the head and with a grunt of effort and a stifled yelp from Lance, pushed him head-first over the edge of the deep sink. “just hold your breath as best you can and… keep your eyes shut!”

 

As the water came into contact with the chemicals on his face, they bubbled furiously. His groans quickly ramped up into a full-throated scream and it was all Keith could do to keep Lance from jerking away and bolting blindly down the hall.

 

“I know, I know. Hold still, Lance.” Keith did his best to ignore the sight of blood and other bits swirling down the drain with the chemical goop. He swallowed harshly. There was no need to add breakfast to this mess.

 

“I know it hurts. I’m trying to get the stuff off.” He caught an elbow in his stomach and a flailing kick to the knee as Lance struggled against him. “Lance! I’m trying to help. Work with me, bud. Hold still! You’re only making it worse!” Lance whined. Keith kept repeating himself until the Blue Paladin shuddered. “Ke...Keith.” Bronze knuckles gripped tightly against the rim of the basin until they turned white.

 

“Yeah. I’m here. Keep your eyes closed. Tight.” Keith spoke grimly as he ruthlessly chased down every bit of chemical contamination.  _ Keep your eyes closed. I don’t want you to see this. _ “This stuff is nasty, but I’ll get it off. I promise.” Lance’s damp head nodded. Keith’s task became one tiny degree easier, giving him time to place a call on the comm unit. 

 

“k- Keith?" Pidges voice crackled. “Keith! What the hell is going on?”

 

“Pidge! Shut up and listen. Are you ready to launch?” 

 

“Yes. Shiro's gonna spit nails so this better be worth it.” 

 

“Emergency situation Five-Dash-Charlie.” Keith hesitated as she gasped in alarm then grimly added, “and bring a chemical burn kit.”

 

“Theres one in the emergency kit. Which is something you should already know. ETA five minutes, dude.” Her voice was steel as she clicked off. Keith breathed a sigh of relief. She’d track his signal and be here soon. Backup was on the way.

 

It seemed like forever before the water ran clear and Lance’s tight screams of pain settled into short, gasping sobs. Keith turned the water off and let Lance straighten up. Keith's gut churned again and for at least the third time in the last 20 minutes, he regretted breakfast. The left side of Lance's face looked like bloodless hamburger.

 

“Go ahead and keep your eyes closed. I think I got it all but I want them to check at the castle and I want to make sure none gets in your eyes.” he kept his tone as low and soothing as he could. “We're going to step outside and meet Pidge, she's bringing the limo.” 

 

Lance coughed and made a sound that could have been a chuckle. “Limo, huh?”

 

“That's right. Only the best, smoothest ride in the universe for our sharpshooter. Straight up to the castle where you will be pampered and praised and tucked in for a soothing nap.”

 

“That sounds really nice, Keith. You gonna tuck me in and read me a story?”

 

“You bet.” Keith swallowed hard, and struggled to keep his voice from shaking. Once again he had Lance's arm over his shoulder and was guiding him to the door with a firm arm around his waist to steady him.

 

“Real nice…” Lance repeated through pain-slurred speech. “One thing, though. I can't believe you used Pidge’s name and the words ‘smooth ride’ in the same sentence, Keith… she's scary.”

 

“I'll be sure to tell her you said that.”

 

“Cheese and crackers!” He gasped, and then nearly choked on the pain. “You save me from one madwoman… and then throw me to the tender mercies of another. One, may I add, that doesn't know the meaning of the word, ‘Mercy’! Keith, my man, please. I'm begging you...” 

 

Knowing Lance was at least half-serious made Keith chuckle even harder. “OK. Your secret is safe with me.” he paused a moment then leaned Lance up against a lab table. “Wait here a tick. I need to clear some debris from the doorway. Keep your eyes closed.” 

 

“Sheesh. I heard you the first three times. They're closed.” The wet sound of his gauntleted fingers drumming against the table in impatience made Keith grin. Lance was soaked, dripping wet from the waist up and Keith could imagine the wet flight suit under the paladin armor was pretty uncomfortable. Honestly, Keith was pretty damp around the edges himself. He had been overly-generous with his usage of the water and Lance looked a great deal like a half-drowned rat. 

 

“Good.” Keith eyed him cautiously as Lance leaned lopsidedly against the table. He felt a bit guilty. There was no real need for Lance to keep his eyes closed... other than Keith didn't want him to see the body. The guilt feeling vanished in a poof of ire.

 

He noted that Lance was shaking; although it could just be exhaustion and reaction, Keith was still concerned. He was dripping wet, stressed and chilled and the human body can only handle so much before collapsing. Keith put some speed on it as he rifled through Schee’rit’s clothes. He found the pink vial and tucked it in a pocket of his suit. Pidge would be happy to have it. 

 

Finally, he pulled the body off to one side and tucked it behind a table. An odd urge prompted him to reach over and brush her eyes closed. One small precise hole in her forehead accented the wide-eyed look of surprise on her face. Fingers hovering, he took a moment to admire the neat, deadly precision of that shot. Even as it had practically kissed his cheek, Keith knew that Lance hadn't missed. 

 

“OK buddy,” he said as he tucked himself under Lance's arm again, “all clear. Just lean on me and we’ll get out of here.”

 

Lance hesitated, “Keith… what about Schee’rit? She was going to shoot you… did she miss?”

 

“Yeah Lance.” Keith's voice was low and steady. “She missed.” There was no need for him to know more. “I took care of her. I'm sorry but there was no way around it.”

 

“Oh” his voice was soft with pain. “I suppose that's for the best….”

  
  


\--------------

 

“No, Keith.” Pidge was firm as she pushed him away from Lance and down the ramp of her lion. 

 

“But…”

 

“No.” she stated with an extra-hard shove for emphasis. “Lance has all of us to take care of him and we will. You know we will. God, he looks bad though. I thought I was prepared when you called the Charlie, but…” her voice trailed off and Keith could see the fear that he’d buried clearly reflected in her eyes. She shook herself with a visible effort. “Thank you, by the way, for the drug sample. It’ll help I hope. But Keith... you have to stay here.”

 

He opened his mouth to protest and she cut him off again, “You've got two dead ambassadors, three grieving Car’iti, and you are about to have a unexplained, missing paladin as well.” she nailed him to the wall with her stare. “You have to deal with  _ this _ . We’ve got Lance. Now, go.”

 

He ground his teeth. She was right. Damn her. And to make his situation even worse, she called out to him from the closing mouth of her lion, “And see if you can get Blue to bring you home. I don't want to try swimming back down here again.”

 

\-----------------

 

The castle was in chaos. Shiro found himself caught up in the maelstrom caused by a mission suddenly turning from textbook success to impending and overwhelming disaster. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering what Garrison Cadet Commander Iverson would do in this situation. And, again not for the first time, after grinning at the delightful thought of Iverson’s stunned expression at being  _ in _ this position; found some useful guidance. 

 

_ Pick your battles.  _

_ Know where all the problems are and prioritize them.  _

_ Coordinate your efforts.  _

 

Today, Shiro felt like he was trying to herd cats. Giant, robotic, space cats... and their pilots.

“Hunk. Help Coran get Lance into a pod.”

“Allura, please keep an eye on communications. We need to know what’s going on down on the planet. See if you can get in touch with Keith.”

“Pidge...You and I are about to have a very long discussion.” 

 

She gave him a very bland expression. Unfortunately, he was quite familiar with this particular Pidge-face. The “Yeah, I went behind your back and did something questionable but the results were beneficial so you’re not gonna do anything about it and can we get the requisite scolding over with... I have things to do” face. 

 

Shiro tried to keep his own face stern and his groan strictly internal.  _ Why me? _

 

“Pidge…” he began again.

 

“Shiro,” Allura interrupted, “the Rexalans would like to speak to you. They are asking for the Paladin Commander.”  Shiro groaned internally, again. He could tell by the miffed tone in her voice that Allura had been unable to get them to talk with her and she was offended by their insistence on speaking with him. Well, he'd have to deal with soothing her ruffled feathers after he'd dealt with the Rexalans. One crisis at a time...

 

Hours later, Shiro was still trying to soothe the irate Rexalans. Initially, it had been over the relatively minor infiltration of their security database for the feeds of the dining hall. --Something he would not have condoned had he known about it.-- But then... It came to light that Pidge had broken through their Galra-proof shields, flown an unauthorized craft down to the surface of the planet, departed again, without them noticing; and now one of the Voltron team was missing and both of the Ambassadors were dead.   
  


All things Shiro had been unaware of until just recently. Yes, he was going to have some serious conversations with Pidge when this was over.

 

“Sir, I apologize for the lack of formality and not asking permission. It was a medical emergency. One of my team was badly injured.”  _ Although I don’t yet know how… _

 

“I assure you, his injury had nothing to do with the death of the Ambassadors.” _ I hope. _

 

“Yes, as soon as I have a complete picture of the situation, I will be happy to give you a full briefing.”  _ As brief of a briefing as I can get away with… _

 

Still, the taller of the two planetary representative was waving his pseudopods and ranting on in his whistling voice about protocols and proper channels. Shiro was starting to be less annoyed with Pidge for bypassing these idiots and more annoyed with the unreasonableness of the individuals on the other side of the screen. He would never admit it to Pidge but he was  beginning to wish that she’d managed to keep her illicit subversion of their tech completely secret. 

 

“Gentle beings, if I may…” Shiro never had a chance to finish that thought. A third Rexalan shuffled into the room and joined the two who were ranting at him. They immediately stopped and turned aside. While Shiro waited with folded arms and warring feelings of relief for the reprieve and annoyed impatience to get this over with, they had an off-camera discussion. When they returned, the Rexalans were suspiciously all smiles and amicability. They assured him the situation was settled and bid him a good day. Before he could say a word, the screen blanked; leaving him standing there with his mouth open and feeling foolish.

 

“Pidge!” He turned to scan the bridge for her unruly mop of hair. Shiro was burning for a good explanation of what had just happened and she was just the one to ask.

 

Empty. The room had been carefully and quietly vacated. Shiro allowed himself a scowl of displeasure. She would have scuttled off to some hole by now and it would take hours to track her down and then hours more to pry any information out of her. Tight-lipped? No. Her secrets were guarded more tightly than the legendary vaults of Fort Knox. He sighed and slumped against the console. There was no point in tracking her down. She’d be found when she was ready to be found and he’d find out only what she was disposed to share. Lance would be in the pod for a good, long while so real details of what was going on down on the planet would have to wait... for Keith. 

 

Shiro pushed off the console and headed down to the medical bay. He wondered if his heart could take the strain of leading this crew.

 

__ _ Patience yields focus. _

 

\-----------

 

Shiro found himself repeating that sentiment two days later after negotiating the required bureaucratic avenues to bring the Black Lion down to Rexal 4 in order to retrieve the Blue Lion and the stranded trade party.   
  


Blue had apparently not been amiable to Keith flying her back to the castle.

 

When Shiro landed to collect the trade delegation he received three sad, but strangely smug Car'iti, two small cryo-boxes and one frustrated, irate and testy Red Paladin. 

 

Curiosity about what exactly had been going on down on the planet was eating Shiro alive. The contacts with Keith had been brief, brusque and vague; about as satisfying as his conversation with Pidge once he’d tracked her down and cornered her for a talk.

__

__ _ Pidge didn’t even bother looking up from the chemical formula she was manipulating in the computer system. “I told you. I don’t know what’s going on down there. Keith called and I answered.” _

__

__ _ “He didn’t tell you anything at all about how Lance got hurt.” _

_  
_ __ _ “Nope.” _

 

__ _ “Pidge…”  _

 

__ _ “Shiro.” _

 

__ _ “Pidge, this is serious. I need to know. Keith is down there unsupported right now in a situation that I have no information on or control over. You need to keep me informed.” _

 

__ _ She spun around on her stool and looked at him with her big, owl-shaped eyes full of exasperation. “Shiro. Keith called me and asked me to stand by. Less than an hour later he called again with a Five-Charlie code. He asked for a chemical burn kit.” She pushed her glasses up farther on her nose. “I went. I brought Lance back. I told Keith he had to stay. It’s all on the cameras, Shiro. I know you accessed them.” _

 

__ _ She turned back to her screen, “I can’t tell you any more.” _

__ _ Shiro crossed his arms and stood waiting, smothering his impatience. _

 

__ _ Pidge sighed as she ran her fingers over the keyboard. “Ask Keith. And go brood somewhere else.” _

 

So, when Keith stalked up the ramp after ensuring everyone had boarded and all the luggage was tossed in, only to stand silent, pale and tense behind the Black Lion’s cockpit chair, Shiro was rather at a loss. One look at the tight scowl on Keith’s face caused Shiro to re-evaluate his planned questions. Congratulations on a mission accomplished seemed inappropriate given the circumstances so he tried for the next best thing to say, “Ready to go?”

 

“Yes.” The word was a tight snarl and Shiro mentally put off the inevitable debriefing for a few additional hours; letting Keith brood in silence for the remainder of the trip. 

 

Keith fidgeted and twitched the entire ride. The impatient energy simply radiated off of him in waves. Shiro would have sworn that if Keith believed getting out and pushing Black from behind would get them back to the castle any faster, the boy would be outside. Black had barely touched down in the hangar before Keith vanished from the cockpit and was jumping down from the ramp even as the black lion opened its jaws.

 

“Keith, wait!” Shiro called after him, to no avail. The team leader watched in consternation from the open jaw of his lion as the red-armored figure disappeared down the corridor. 

 

A small hand was placed on his arm and startled, Shiro looked down into the care-worn face of the Car’iti, Barr’t’ist. In a tired voice, he said, “If you can, let him go, Paladin. He has worked harder than any of us these last two days. Let him go to visit his injured friend.”

 

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Shiro glanced over to see Pidge and Hunk emerging from the corridor to the living areas.  _ Reinforcements. Now I can go after Keith. _

 

It was only a short time before everything was sorted out again. Blue Lion was set back in her hangar to wait for Lance’s return. Pidge whisked Chur’ist, still drooping and apparently mourning the loss of both ambassadors, off to her laboratory. Hunk, with infinite care and respect, took charge of the two small coffins, leaving Shiro to escort the other two delegates to the quarters they had occupied on the journey here.

 

“Thank you for coming to get us, Paladin.” Barr’t’ist spoke softly as they walked down the corridor. “It has been a… trying… few days.” The small alien paused to choose the right words. “Paladin Keith tried to get the Blue Lion to respond, but it seems the two of them do not match very well.”

 

Shiro snorted a quiet laugh at that understatement.

 

Barr’t’ist continued, “He should be commended. He saved the trade agreement.”

 

Shiro blinked. “What?” This was the first he’d heard of that. The trade agreement had been in danger?

 

The Car’iti nodded. “He came back to the room and told us Schee’rit had died in an accident.” He looked up at Shiro. “Both of our ambassadors were dead. What could we do? There was no one to sign the trade agreement that afternoon.” His crest drooped. “We started packing up to leave. Someone else would need to come and renegotiate the treaty my mate had tried so hard to bring to pass.”

 

“But, why couldn’t one of you sign it?” Shiro asked.

 

Ahr’rin’ist picked up the conversation as Barr’t shook his head. “The Red one asked us the same question. Your society must be very different than ours. The Matriarchs run the households, make decisions, own the property and sign official documents. Males simply do not do any of those things. It would be unseemly.”

 

“And Keith?”  Shiro was curious now. He could imagine Keith standing there in outrage, ready to give them a lecture on duty and how their planet needed them.

 

Ahr’rin’s crest perked up. “He managed to convince Barr’t that as Trill’ist’s mate, he had enough authority to sign the treaty and the Rexalans would accept him.”

 

Barr’t sighed. “The Rexalans are not the issue, and you know that.”

 

Ahr’rin rolled his eyes at his brother-by-law and continued, “It’s not the Rexalans. They wouldn’t care if one of  _ you _ signed it; as long as the provisions are upheld by our government. The problem is the Car’iti council. A male signing the treaty? How could it possibly be valid?” He shook his head. “The hard part is yet to come. Barr’t will have to go before the planetary council and convince them to uphold the treaty he signed.”

 

“Trill and Schee’rit were the ones that negotiated the whole thing.” Barr’t groused. “Keith has a point. What does it matter if it’s  _ my  _ signature on there or  _ hers _ ?” He sighed again.

 

Shiro smiled for the first time in days. “Well, Keith can be very convincing. Perhaps I should have him go with you.”

 

Two equally shocked faces greeted his outrageous suggestion and he managed to keep a straight face only by looking away, down the hall.

 

“Perish the thought!” exclaimed Ahr’rin. “I do not think his help would be that… helpful.” He turned to Barr’t, “Brother, I think you will simply have to use the charm that gained you our Matriarch’s affection. Perhaps it will work on the old Biddies on the council.” His crest perked up to its highest point and a tone of humor crept into his voice. “Perhaps… you should paint your crest with some colorful undertones… and offer to dance for them?”

 

Barr’t rounded on him with a hiss of stifled laughter. Probably the first laughter these two had enjoyed since the deaths. “Don’t you dare even suggest such a thing!” The little Car’iti steward shuddered dramatically. “But yes. I will make certain that my mate’s final legacy for her people was not negotiated in vain.” 

 

His little chin lifted and Shiro was glad to see the fighting spark back in his eyes. “Well, it’s all for the best, I suppose. We really can’t spare him for as long as it’s likely to take.” 

 

They chatted a while longer outside the door to their rooms. By the time he bid them good evening, Shiro had a much better picture of the trials Keith had been going through and a new respect for what he’d accomplished on his own. Now… to find Keith and get the rest of the picture filled in.  Shouldn’t be hard. There’s only one place he’d be.


	6. What Doesn't Kill Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets back, wanting only to check on Lance and find out how he is after the horrible accident -- Only to be immediately stuffed into a pod, himself.  
> Emerging, he finds out that no, things are not all well with Lance…  
> \-----  
>  Shiro, hovering like a hen with one chick, shouted with alarm, “Coran!”
> 
> The old advisor looked up from his data screen in confusion. “What is it?”
> 
> ”Keith is coughing up blood.”
> 
> Keith tried to wave off their worry and tell them he was fine but his world was contracting down to the pinpoint need to get air. He felt like he was drowning. Why can't I breathe?

CHAPTER 6 - What Doesn’t Kill Us

  
  


Keith skidded to a halt in front of the Pod room, pausing for a moment to lean against the doorway and wheeze, catching his breath before entering.   --Too many long corridors.

 

His body ached, his lungs burned and his shoulder throbbed. He had stumbled a few times on his way from the Black Lion’s hangar. The bulkheads in the corridors were either harder than he remembered them being or he was in worse shape than he’d thought. His vision swam. Probably the oxygen levels on the ship were set a bit low. Coran should check them. He wasn’t bouncing back like he usually did... maybe it was more than just the lack of sleep.

 

He shook the thought off. No, it was just exhaustion. 

 

Right after Pidge took off with Lance, Keith had wrapped up Schee’rit’s body and taken it back to lay in her own room. The remainder of the day had been spent with the Rexalans. They were quite upset about the breaking of protocols. They went on and on about the intrusion of a Voltron lion into their sovereign space, the infiltration of their computer networks and theft of security video.

 

Ironically, they hadn’t really noticed any of it until a big, green robot lion landed in front of the Chemical Research Laboratory and then disappeared again. Keith was fairly certain it was the fact that they hadn't noticed anything that was really toasting their fronds. In any case, they had even called up to the castle and initiated formal protests.  

 

It had taken some fast-talking worthy of Lance, and some outrageous promises that would likely turn Pidge rabid since she was the one that would have to fulfill them, but Keith managed to not only get a couple of cryo pods for the return trip, but basically talked them into officially forgetting the whole incident ever took place.

 

It had been well worth giving up a night’s worth of peaceful sleep; which he wouldn’t have gotten anyhow for worrying about Lance. 

 

Pidge had kept in contact with him the entire time and had given him almost hourly updates, like she’d promised; but Keith also knew she was perfectly willing to lie through her teeth and withhold bad news if she thought --or Shiro suggested-- that it might keep him from completing the mission. So, the only way to know for certain, was to see for himself.

 

Keith stepped close to the only active pod in the room. The glass was foggy and it was hard to see inside. He glanced at the readouts but the Altean script was gibberish to him. He really couldn’t tell how Lance was doing. But, Lance wouldn’t be in a pod if he wasn’t still alive... Right?

 

Keith's chest was tight. It was hard to breathe.

 

Fortunately, Coran walked back in the room, sipping from a steaming cup. “Oh! Number Four.  You’re back.”

 

“Coran. How is he?” 

 

“He'll live, lad. He'll live. Your quick thinking is to thank for that if I hear correctly.” Coran bustled around, checking the pod readings.

 

Keith took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh of relief -- that quickly turned into a gut-wracking series of coughs. It seemed like forever before he could catch another breath and his sight was swimming with little black dots before he could cautiously fill his lungs again. He wiped the spittle from his lips with the back of his hand and looked up in time to see Shiro and Pidge enter the room.

 

“Keith!” her voice was almost painfully chipper. It pounded in his ears. “I wanted to let you know, the antidote Hunk and I cooked up for that drug seems to be working. Chur should be back to his old self by the time we get them home.” 

 

Keith nodded.  _ She’s in a good mood. There’s no time like the present. _ “I’m glad to hear that, Pidge,” he rasped. “I’m afraid I need you to do something, if you have time now.”

 

“Yeah, Keith. No problem. Nothing going on that I can’t set on a back burner. What’s up?” She cocked her head at him like a little bird.

 

He swallowed nervously. “I need you to put together the programs you used to hack into the Rexalans’ security feed and to bypass their security shield and then send them down to the head of their security department.” He paused for a moment and then added uncomfortably, “Please.”

 

The room stilled. Her eyes narrowed. “Umm. No.”

 

__ _ Fuck. _ “Please, Pidge. It’s for the team, and the Car’iti,” he pleaded. “It’s the only bargaining chip I had that would keep them from pulling out of the whole treaty; and, likely declaring war on us as well.”

 

“No, way.” she firmly stated, crossing her arms. “Do you have any idea how much time I put into those algorithms? That stuff doesn’t just pop out of my head. I worked really hard on them. They’re my babies and you’re not just giving them away to placate some tentacle-waving bureaucrat who’s rump is all twisted up because I got the better of them.”

 

“Pidge, you have to.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “Why? Give me one good reason.”

 

“Because I got them to overlook the big green lion that landed abruptly in the middle of their city without warning,” Keith said, trying to keep his tone reasonable but afraid it was slipping down into “testy”. Why did she have to be so difficult all of the time?

 

Her lip curled in disdain. “Something, may I point out, that is entirely your fault since you called me down there. They would never have even noticed me in their systems if you hadn’t needed me to come down and bail your butt out.” 

 

Stubborn to the core. Keith shot a pleading look to Shiro for help.

 

Shiro sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Pidge,” he finally said, “please do as Keith asks.”

 

Her lips pursed and she stared at Shiro with all the furious will buried in her tiny body. He calmly met her eyes with a pleading smile. 

 

Her face turned inexplicably pink and after several tense moments, she threw her hands up in the air and snarled, “Fine! I’ll do it. But, you owe me, Keith!” His insides chilled at the tone of her voice. It lowered half an octave and she added ominously, “Again.” 

 

Keith could practically see the gears turning behind her laser-sharp eyes and so, when her icy demeanor abruptly thawed and her face got that wicked gremlin-grin, alarms shrieked in the back of his head. He knew he should let it go and count his blessings but he had to press… “You’re not going to booby trap them, are you?” He warned her, “No back doors, no viruses and no dirty tricks.”

 

Her mock-offended, wide-eyed stare of utter innocence aroused his suspicions even further. “I give my word. Absolutely clean copies. No strings attached.” 

 

“Pidge!”

 

She snorted as she paused in the doorway, “Relax Emo-boy. I just realized that if they have my stuff to work with, the next time we come back here it might actually be a challenge to hack in. Lots more fun that way!” 

 

In that moment, Keith realized why Shiro always kept his hair so short. It was so the frustrations of dealing with  _ her _ wouldn’t tempt him to yank it out by the roots. 

 

Shiro cleared his throat gently as he stepped up behind Keith. “So, that’s how you managed it. I’ve been wondering why they went from ranting about my team to calm and peaceful goodwill within the space of a few minutes.”

 

Keith scratched the back of his head uncomfortably as he looked over his shoulder at the older paladin. “Yeah. I hated to make promises I wasn’t sure I could keep but it was the only thing I could think of to get them to shut up and drop the issue.”

 

“Well, good job. I look forward to hearing the whole story at some point.” He clapped Keith on the back, catching him off-guard and slightly off-balance.

 

The sudden blow, while not exactly hard compared to some Shiro had given him, was jarring and triggered another coughing fit.

 

Shiro patted his back apologetically as he wheezed and choked. Keith tried to wave him off as he wiped the spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand, but he spotted something that made them both freeze.

 

Blood.

 

There was a smear of blood on the back of Keith's hand. 

 

His breath hitched in his chest which caused another fit of coughing. Shiro, hovering like a hen with one chick, shouted with alarm, “Coran!”

 

The old advisor looked up from his data screen in confusion. “What is it?”

 

”Keith is coughing up blood.”

 

Keith tried to wave off their worry and tell them he was fine but his world was contracting down to the pinpoint need to get air. He felt like he was drowning.  _ Why can't I breathe? _

 

Coran knelt down with Shiro, bracketing Keith between them. “Oh. Oh dear. It looks like you've been affected as well. I had wondered about that after Lance came back and showed evidence of mild chemical burns in his lungs.” 

 

He hauled Keith up by one arm. “Into a pod with you, Paladin. Shiro, would you help him into a suit, please?”

 

“What's wrong with him, Coran?” Shiro asked as he swiftly unbuckled pieces of armor, letting them fall to the floor wherever they landed.

 

Coran was busy dialing up another pod. “The chemicals in the lab, in addition to being highly caustic, seem to have given off some poisonous fumes as well. We treated Lance as soon as he got in the pod, but Keith’s had those chemicals in his lungs for days longer. I’m surprised he hasn’t had trouble before now.”

 

Keith shoved Shiro's overly-helpful hands away as soon as he caught a shallow breath or two. Some of the more… intimate suit functions Keith preferred to take care of himself. Coran looked over and gave the paladin one of his  bright, positive smiles, “No worries, lad! We’ll have you patched up and on your feet again by this time tomorrow.”

 

“Lance?” Keith asked tightly. “How soon?”

“Lance. Oh, yes,” Coran consulted his datapad. “He’ll be out in a couple more varga.”

 

__ _ A couple of varga! _ Keith dug his heels in as Shiro coaxed him towards the now-ready pod. “No,” he wheezed. “I can wait until Lance comes out.”

 

“Nope.” Shiro was firm. “Not gonna happen. In you go. That’s an order.”

 

An order. Keith balked. Shiro never gave him orders because he knew Keith wouldn’t listen anyhow. But this time, it was more than just his unwillingness to be told what to do. 

 

“Shiro,” Keith was certain a few more hours wouldn’t make that much difference and waiting to see Lance come out of the pod wasn’t going to kill him. Unfortunately, while he was trying to figure out how to make the request sound reasonable and not like a 5-year old asking to stay up past his bedtime, another coughing fit bent him over double and took away the opportunity along with his breath.

 

Still, even with spots dancing before his eyes, Keith managed to grab Shiro before they closed the pod on him. “Don’t…” he gasped, “don’t let Lance see the bodies.”

 

Shiro bit his lip and the frown of concern creased his brow. Keith could see a desire for information warring with his obvious concern for Keith’s health. Finally he nodded. “Ok, fine. But we’ll be debriefing when you get out.” The way he lowered his head and stared Keith dead in the face, left Keith with no delusions about how thorough that debriefing would be. He sighed and closed his eyes as Shiro stepped back. The cold air swirled around him and his world stilled as the pod’s field engulfed him in its cold cocoon, sending him into dreams.

 

\----------

 

**Red fire.**

 

_ Fire. Engulfing all. Burning away, leaving ash. The bitter flavor of it clutches the back of his throat. Failure. Keith refuses to fail. He pulls himself out of the fire by will alone. _

 

_ The angry beast is now at his back, snarling, raging. Keith smiles, he’s escaped. In fury, it turns its attention from him to the prey that has not escaped. “No!” _

 

_ Fear consumes him. He had left someone behind. The fire laughs, daring him to come back and try for the rescue. Keith balks, but he has to go back into the heat and the choking smoke. He couldn’t let others pay for his mistakes. _

 

_ Heart clenching, he turns. Mind screaming denial, he takes that shaky step back into the blaze. _

  
  


**Red blood.**

 

_ The precious life swirls away beneath his fingers. Smiling faces of people he had begun to think of as family warp with pain, with loss. They pull away from him and he can never reach far enough to draw them back. Their loss rips into his heart. _

 

**Red bike.**

 

_ Speed. The wind in his face, stealing his breath, stealing the worries away... Letting them disappear with the sweet, adrenaline-laced surge of anticipation and fear. A fear he chooses. A risk he embraces. His risk. His alone. He leans into the acceleration and revels in the knowledge that nothing can catch him. _

 

The red wind of speed dissolves the blue stream of tears on his cheeks, erasing them.

 

\----------

  
  


“Heya man, welcome back!” The voice was Lance’s. Warm as the air that rushed into the opening pod, and full of bouncy humor. Keith felt a weight drop off of his shoulders. He took a deep breath; one free of pain and the wet sensation of drowning in his own lungs. It was great. He took another one. That one was too deep and he was forced to cough, but it lacked the wheezing impact of earlier attempts and passed quickly. 

 

The pod-dreams were fading. They had been so vivid Keith’s heart was still pounding from them. He was certain that if he asked, Coran would tell him his heart rate had been elevated the whole time. The dreams hadn’t been memory-fragments like Shiro had experienced… just dreams. Disturbing, frightening dreams but still, only dreams. Keith took a steadying breath. None of them were real. At least, Keith reflected anxiously, he didn’t think any of them had been real…

 

As he blinked the ice crystals from his vision, Shiro’s somber and worried face swam into focus. So that’s who was holding him up, Keith mused. Shiro was a good rock to lean against until his jelly-legs settled. Still, he frowned, it was odd; he was certain he’d heard Lance, so why was Shiro holding him? He blinked groggily and looked farther into the room. Pidge, Allura, Hunk… everyone was here. And there, with a sigh of relief he spotted Lance, leaning against Hunk as if he were a big tree. 

 

Lance had made it out of the pod. Keith felt a weight lift. An echo of a dream of a healing pod on fire drifted through his hazy brain. But, as he dragged his full attention around the room, Keith realized there was an unaccountable layer of tension in the air that frizzled across his skin and made his hair stand on end. He scanned distraught faces full of tension and worry and frowned. Only Lance was smiling. Why? It registered on him finally that Lance was dressed. Looking closer, Keith noted that he was wearing his comfortable jacket and jeans. That meant he’d been out of the pod at least long enough to be dressed, but if he was still leaning against Hunk, he couldn’t have been out too long. Keith’s stomach rumbled and he wondered if they’d eaten yet or if they had been waiting for him. 

 

Still, what was wrong? Why were they all so somber? He smiled weakly, “Good to be back.” Lance was the only one who returned it. Keith’s attention kept wandering back to the fixed set of Lance’s smile. There was something off about it. As he stepped forward, with a dual urge to get a closer look at Lance’s face and also express his relief at Lance’s well-being with a hand clasp, his clearing vision and the warning squeeze of Shiro’s supporting arm under his elbow revealed why the room was prickling with tension.

 

Keith’s heart crashed to the floor with an internal sound much like the shelf of glass bottles that had crashed down on Lance’s head.

 

“Lance…” That’s when words failed him. He froze. Keith was absolutely sure he could feel the color draining from his face as Shiro's fingers dug into the underside of his arm. The raised, reddened scars covering the left side of Lance’s face stole all other thought from him.  _ His face is ruined! Oh, Lance… _

 

Lance watched. He watched as the utter shock and horror crawl across Keith’s face and then disappear behind a blank, stony facade. He watched; and he plastered that smile on his face so hard it hurt. “Heh. You thought you would get out of the pod before me? Wrong, Bucko. Guess I win again.”  _ Weak, but it’ll do in a pinch. _ “Hunk, my man, I am star-ving! You would not believe me but I am willing to eat even one of Coran’s infamous Paladin Lunches. I hope you’ve got something lined up for dinner?” He looked up at the Yellow Paladin, hoping for a saving response.

 

Even Hunk, who knew him better than anyone, looked surprised at his nonchalance. Lance worked it, and worked it  _ hard _ . Pushing off of Hunk, he straightened his jacket and beamed a smile around the room. “Look, I’m gonna go freshen up a bit… maybe jog around the track, do a few laps around the pool… put on a little aftershave for the ladies…”  _ Pause. Wink suggestively at Allura. Waggle eyebrows at Pidge.  _ “I’ll catch you all at the dinner table.”  _ fingerguns. _

 

He staggered - _ sauntered-  _ from the room.   _ Dignity maintained. Pride intact. No tears. Mission accomplished. _

 

No one followed him. That was even better. Lance lurched around a random corner in a random direction. He had no idea where he was in the castle; that wasn’t actually a bad thing, it meant people would have a harder time finding him. 

 

Lance rested his forehead against the cool, metallic material of the bulkhead. His eyes prickled and unbidden, a wet drop traced its way down his nose. It tickled. He snuffled and turned his head just enough to rub it off on the sleeve of his jacket. 

 

The reprieve was momentary. A second drop echoed the path of the first one, soon joined by a third. A tiny hiccup of breath burned its way up from his chest and managed to work through the knot of emotions sitting in his throat to explode in a weak gasp. It was followed shortly by another. 

 

In the same way one tear became many, one breath became a torrent of broken gasps. Lance turned his back to the wall, his head smacking into it with a jolt of pain he didn’t even register. Slowly, he slid down the curved surface until his bottom came to rest on the floor. Without thought, his knees tucked up, his arms wrapped themselves around his legs in a white-knuckled grip and he buried his scarred face in the already-damp fabric of his jacket.

 

The cracked surface of his cheerful facade finally broke. Deep, soul-churning sobs wracked his slender frame and one hand reached up to clutch chunks of his hair in an almost-painful grip.

 

He was a pathetic, sodden, snot-covered mess. And it didn’t matter at all; he was hideous now, what difference would a few tears make?

 

Tiny, sympathetic eyes glittered in the darkness of an overhead vent.

 

\-----------

 

Incredulous, Keith stared at the closed door for a long, silent time after Lance left. Hunk shifted his feet uncomfortably but there was no other real movement in the room. Shiro’s bruising grip on his arm had slackened slightly, allowing Keith to pull his arm free and whirl on him.

 

“What the hell happened?” 

 

Shiro met his furious gaze with a steely one of his own. “Calm down, Keith.” He reached out to take his arm again but Keith pulled away.

 

Fists clenched tight at his sides, Keith snarled, turning to include the entire group; “What the hell happened? Why isn’t he healed? Is the pod broken?” His eyes begged them for an explanation. “Can you fix it?”

 

No one could meet the desperate pleading of his gaze.

 

“Keith…” Allura’s soft voice broke the tension, “the pod isn’t broken. Coran has checked it twice since Lance emerged.” She hesitated, and her voice cracked in the silence, “It just… wasn’t able to heal him all the way.”

 

“What does that mean? They’re healing pods. They heal. That’s what they do.” Keith’s voice built on a rising tide of panic, like the storm surge in front of a hurricane.

 

“They don’t work that way, Keith.” Pidge broke in with a soft voice. “At least, they don’t on humans.” Keith’s eyes snapped to Pidge and his gaze bore into hers with a frantic intensity. 

 

She continued, her words acting as a barrier of sandbags against the storm of Keith’s emotions, “Firstly, we’re human. Not Altean. The fact that they work for us at all is a miracle of their engineering. Although, they do work for other races as well so it’s not that far of a stretch, any reasonably advanced algorithm would be able to calculate variables based on the similarities of similarly-developed races and…” Hunk cleared his throat and she blinked, hurriedly returning to the subject at hand.

 

Pidge cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses almost nervously, “And, well, secondly, they are over ten-thousand years old.” Her gaze dropped and she wouldn’t meet Keith’s eyes. “They’ve probably got some issues, being that old. Some… glitches. It may be that they just didn’t read Lance’s data correctly and now they believe that ‘this’ is his normal state.” Pidge’s commentary fell off in a painful silence.

 

Hunk stepped up and placed a comforting hand on her tiny shoulder. “In any case, Lance’s face is as healed as it’s going to get.” He peered at Keith as if he were reading the guilt etched on his soul. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Keith looked away. It was entirely his fault. If he’d been faster… If he’d said something sooner… “I killed her, you know.” Keith’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But if I’d been faster, she wouldn’t have gotten that last shot off, the shelf wouldn’t have fallen, Lance would still be ok…” His lie was even more convincing because Keith felt it should have been the truth.

 

Shiro’s steady presence was a bulwark at his back. The group closed in around him, becoming a warm, comforting presence. Hands reached out and the solid contact of their touch grounded him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. He’d been away from them so long…

 

“Don’t worry, Keith.”   
  


“It’ll be all right.”

 

“Lance bounces back from everything. He won’t let this get to him.” Somehow, Keith had a feeling that this time might be different, but before he could say anything, his empty stomach protested the lack of attention it was getting.

 

A round of chuckles and muffled giggles released the tension in the room like a soap bubble popping. Hunk practically picked him up to give him one more squeeze and set him down carefully. Keith surreptitiously checked his ribs as he grinned weakly up at the big paladin.

 

“I’m gonna go cook dinner.” Hunk beamed. “You’ll feel much better after we get some food into you. Half of this is probably post-pod hunger. Lance too.” He glanced around and then exclaimed with deliberation, “You all need feeding! Bunch of skinny sticks, the whole lot of you. Gonna feed you up so you’re big and strong like me.” He thumped his chest proudly and swiftly turned, strutting out of the medical bay. 

 

Keith watched him go with a bemused grin. Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder and Keith glanced up inquiringly. “Let’s go get you cleaned up so you don’t miss out on whatever he’s planning.” 

 

He nodded. A few steps before the door, Keith stopped, causing Shiro to pause as well. Keith looked back to where Pidge and Coran were still fiddling with the pod readouts, murmuring to each other in a technical language Keith knew he had no hope of understanding. “Hey, are you guys coming?”

 

Pidge’s head shot up, startled. Apparently she’d forgotten they were still there. “Oh. Um. Yeah! We’ll be along shortly. Just going over a few things.” Her attention returned to the data screens and she waved them out absently. “You guys go ahead…”

 

Keith snorted as Shiro shook his head in bemusement. “They’re gonna be late, aren’t they?”

 

“Most likely.”

 

They walked slowly together down the corridors, Shiro just close enough to reach out and steady Keith if he stumbled. He didn’t. Each step was steadier than the last as Keith got his legs back under him, surreptitiously stretching stiff and cold muscles as they went.

 

Shiro cleared his throat. Keith tensed. He knew something was coming.

 

“I went and checked the ambassadors’ bodies after we put you in the pod…” Shiro approached the subject cautiously, almost as if he were unsure of Keith’s reaction.

 

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. He continued walking, concentrating on keeping both his pace and voice steady, “Uh huh…”

 

“Keith, a plasma shot killed Schee’rit; not you.”

 

__ _ Fuck _ … Well, he hadn’t expected it to come out quite that bluntly. Keith took a deep breath and kept his head steady, not dropping his chin as he continued walking. 

 

“Keith…” Shiro persisted, “straight through her temple. There’s only one person that could make that shot. That’s why you didn’t want him to see her body, isn’t it?” Keith stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway.

 

“Don’t tell Lance.” A simple, flat statement but Keith put all the power of the deep relationship he shared with Shiro behind it. Shiro owed him this and as he glanced sideways at the larger man, he saw the acknowledgement of that in the powerful gaze that met his. Shiro would comply, he just wanted to have a good reason in order to settle his conscience.

 

Keith huffed in relief. “He doesn’t need to know. He thinks that shot missed. It would kill him, Shiro. Let him believe it was me.”

 

“And let everyone outside the team believe your story that it was an accident?” Shiro’s eyebrow lifted in a clear statement of his disbelief in the wisdom of this course of action. Complicated lies tended to unravel.

 

“Yeah. Let the Car’iti think their ambassadors met with tragic accidents.” He gave a half-shrug. “It’s more or less the truth. Barr’t and the others will go along with the story.” Keith tried to keep the self-loathing out of his voice but he had a feeling Shiro heard it anyway. “It’s for the best.”

 

Shiro nodded as they paused outside Keith’s quarters. “Your mission, Keith; your call. I’ll follow your lead in this. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” He put his hand briefly on Keith’s shoulder and gave it a strong squeeze. 

 

Keith nodded silently. With one last pat on the shoulder, Shiro left him to his own devices, walking back down the corridor the way they’d come. 

With a tired sigh, Keith opened the door to his quarters. Dinner could wait a little while. A warm shower and a change of clothes was all he wanted at this moment.

 

\--------------

 

It was early. Too early for anything; including breakfast, including training, including waiting for a handful of people to appear in the doorway to the Black Lion’s hangar. And yet, here he was. He stifled a yawn. Formal goodbyes had been said last night after dinner, but Keith had wanted to be here anyway. He had spent the better part of a month with theses small aliens and it hadn’t seemed right to let them go in the dawn hours of castle-time without at least one person there to send them off.

 

Keith sighed and folded his arms as he leaned against the wall and let his head fall back to rest against the cool metal. He probably wouldn’t have long to wait, Shiro was a very punctual person. 

 

He felt the vibration of footsteps before he heard them. He opened his eyes and lifted his head in time to see a tall figure emerge from the long corridor. Keith pushed off the wall and straightened up in an attempt to look awake.

 

Shiro’s grin told him he wasn’t fooling anyone but himself.

 

“Since I’m pretty sure you’re not here to see  _ me _ off this time, I’ll go start my checklist.” He passed Keith with a wave and a grin as the younger paladin stood there sputtering.

 

Keith collected himself in time to smile warmly at the three Car’iti as they followed Shiro into the Lion’s bay. They each held a small bag of personal belongings, the remainder of their gear having been stowed on the lion the previous evening.   
  


“Paladin Keith.” Ahr’rin stepped forward, solemn and formal as always. Keith had never managed to break through that barrier he kept around himself and from the way Barr’t often rolled his eyes, apparently this was just the way he was all the time. Ahr’rin seemed to have taken charge of the party so Keith put on his best formal attitude and bowed politely.

 

“Did you have any messages for my Mate?” 

 

Keith fought the eyebrow that was trying to twitch its way upwards. He managed it, barely.  _ Bless Coran and his lessons… _ “No, Ahr’rin’ist. But, if you would accept, on the new Matriarch’s behalf, I would like to extend my Blessings on the Household and I hope it prospers under your Mate’s care.” Excessively formal but Ahr’rin was the type to enjoy it. The Car’iti nodded pompously and, after returning Keith’s bow, proceeded to board the Black Lion.

  
Still musing over how the dynamics of the group had changed with Trill’ist’s death, Keith was startled by the feel of a tiny, scaled hand on his arm. He looked down into Chur’ist’s somber, green eyes. “Keith,” he said with a nervous tremor in his voice, “I wanted to thank you for all you did for us, and for me in particular.”   
  
“It was my honor.” Keith smiled warmly, “and my pleasure.” He placed his own hand over the Car’iti’s tiny one, patting it gently.

 

Green eyes peered deeply into his own and just as Keith was beginning to get nervous, Chur’ist blurted out, “You know, if he’s running just from you, then there’s something you need to fix between the two of you. If he’s running from  _ everyone _ … that’s something he needs to fix in himself. I’m sure you’ll figure it all out soon.” Solemn, romantic advice given, the young alien gave him a firm nod and then scuttled off to the lion.

 

Halfway there, he stopped suddenly, as if he’d remembered something important. He turned back and said loudly enough to have it echo around the vast chamber, “And don’t give up just because your prey goes to ground. The trees reward the patient hunter!” With another emphatic nod, he ran up the ramp.

 

Keith blinked in stunned surprise and confusion. Barr’t’ist churred in laughter beside him.

 

“Ancient wisdom from young lips.”

 

Keith felt his ears heating and tried very hard to chase away the wild string of thoughts that was now burrowing into his head. He was startled back to the present when Barr’t cleared his throat. With effort, he dragged his attention back to the little alien beside him. “We said farewells last night… twice, as I recall, why are you here? Did we forget something?” 

 

The little fellow’s crest rose sharply in concern and Keith smiled to reassure him. “No. I just wanted to be here to send you off. It is a tradition.” A tradition that dated all the way back to the days of sailing vessels on the wide oceans of Earth. He smiled as he remembered Barr’t’s reaction to finding out the human’s planet was mostly large expanses of water. He had eaten up the tales of sailing ships that traveled under no power other than the wind in their sails. Keith would miss the cultural exchanges that had kept him up with this person into the deep nights. It had been a pleasant pastime.

 

Barr’t sighed in relief and let his crest relax. “Oh, that’s good. You know, I checked every room of our quarters at least twice, afraid we would leave behind a scale-brush or robe-tie or some other thing.”  
  
Keith laughed. He had done the same back on the planet.

 

“I just wanted to see you one last time.” Keith was almost overwhelmed by the surge of sadness that statement brought with it. He  _ would _ miss them. All of them.

 

“I will miss you also.” His crest drooped. Keith noted that he looked tired and worn and much, much smaller than he had ever seen the Car’iti. “It… will be very hard to go back home.” Softly, Barr’t whispered, “It will not be the same without her.” Keith’s heart broke.

 

Before he knew it, he had knelt and was wrapping his arms around the little alien, who gave a chirp of surprise. Keith backed off slightly when he felt those slender little bones but he didn’t let go.

 

“I miss her too. I was almost looking forward to meeting all her daughters and granddaughters and being paraded in front of them, only to have them laugh at my pathetic attempts to do your traditional dances.”

 

Barr’t churred a weak laugh. “Yes, that would have been a sight worth recording.” He returned the hug awkwardly, running his claws through Keith’s hair as if he were grooming him. “You should come back and visit me anyway. We will find a way to annoy Ahr’rin into a laugh, together, yes? Record it for the children to see so they know their father  _ can _ actually laugh.” They chuckled together over the thought. “Perhaps bring him some exotic plant from your home. That would please him and then we could get away with anything.”

 

That actually gave Keith an idea. He tucked it away for later consideration. Pulling back, he gave Barr’t a smile, “I know Allura probably gave you a communicator so you could stay in contact with us and call if we were needed…”

 

The Car’iti confirmed with a nod. “Yes. Ahr’rin has it now. Allura gave it to us on the bridge last night when we said farewells.”

 

Keith grinned in delight. He had supposed as much, that’s why he had come prepared. “Then, since it is very unlikely you’ll be able to use it for just a social call…” Barr’t snorted in acknowledgement of that understatement. Keith grinned wider as he pulled a communicator out of his pocket and handed it to his friend, “it’s very convenient that I have a second one, strictly for your own, personal, use.”

 

It was worth every effort of having wheedled it out of Allura to see the light sparkle in those brown eyes. “You can call any time,” he continued, “Pidge programmed this one to send alerts directly to me.”

 

Barr’t simply stared at it, sitting in his hand, an unexpected gift. Uncomfortable with the stillness, Keith straightened up, rubbing his hand through his hair, mussing it further. “You know, just to let me know how things are going with you.”

 

“Thank you, Keith. I shall stay in touch.” He held his little hand out and Keith took it and shook it solemnly. “I should go now, before Ahr’rin convinces Paladin Shiro to leave without me.” With a weak grin, he picked up his bag and proceeded to board the lion. Halfway there, he stopped and put the communicator in his pocket so he could turn back once and wave before rushing up the ramp.

 

Keith stood and waved until his arm grew tired and he could no longer see the lion through the open hangar doors. With a sigh, he turned and walked back towards the lounge. It was time to track down Lance and get things settled between them.   
  


__ _ Don’t give up just because your prey goes to ground... _   
  


Time for the hunt to begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, these poor boys. And yes, I made Lance cry.
> 
> On a happier note:  
> Thank you all for the great comments!  
> It's made me feel so much better, to know you're enjoying this.
> 
> 2 Chapters left, and one is an epilogue... /drumroll....
> 
> I'm working on Keith's story now and it's giving me a bit of trouble. I was hoping to be able to start posting it immediately following the end of this one.  
> We'll just have to see how it works out!


	7. Makes Us Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance, depressed over all that's happened, has hidden himself away.  
> Keith is determined not to let that happen but is stymied at every turn.  
> Until... the sound of a shattered mirror changes everything for both of them.
> 
> \-----------
> 
> Lance stared into the mirror. The horror he saw there trapped his eyes and kept them prisoner. Only with great effort was he able to rip them away.
> 
> His hair was a dry, limp mess. His skin… Well, what was left of it was beginning to show his neglect, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Generally, he avoided mirrors, even going out of his way to avoid seeing his reflection in the reflected glass of the viewers or any polished surfaces. Every time he caught a glance of the pitted wasteland that had once been his face, it was a shock. It was soul-ripping reminder of the “accident”, of the bitter betrayal and how she had used him.
> 
> And what a love-struck, gullible fool he had been to let her.

Chapter 7 -  Makes Us Stronger

 

Keith slumped against the kitchen counter and let out a puffed breath of exasperation.

 

Hunk glanced over and grinned as he added a powder to the yellowish pudding stuff he was stirring. “So, no luck again?”

 

“No.” Keith replied, trying to keep the sour taste of resentment out of his words. “He slipped away again.”

 

“Have you asked Pidge for help?” Hunk stuck a finger in the batter and tasted it, adding a bit more of the powder before stirring more vigorously.

 

“Yessss.” It came out as a hiss. “She says she can’t find him on any of the castle’s camera feeds. Obviously she’s lying because she found the stash where I put my share of the cookies that you baked just last week. Which, I might add, are gone now.”

 

Hunk put the bowl down with a chuckle and reached up above his head to pull a box out of a cabinet. He then laid out a selection of cookies for Keith on a plate and his smile deepened with Keith’s happy grunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you some more,” he said as he went back to pouring the batter into pans.

 

“Thank you.” Keith let his head flop down dramatically on his crossed arms and fumbled for a cookie. “I think he managed to bribe her with something. Must have been big.”

 

“I think I saw her with his I-pod yesterday,” Hunk mused.

 

“His I-pod? Shit. That is big. Ok. No way I’ll be able to top that.” Keith sighed in defeat and stuffed the cookie in his mouth. There were several moments of thoughtful chewing and swallowing before he asked, “Any chance of ambushing him in the kitchen? I know you’ve been leaving food out for him since he hasn’t been to any meals for days.”

 

Hunk put the last pan in the oven and turned to Keith with a worried frown. “I don’t think he’s been eating.”

 

“What?” Keith sat up straighter. It was one thing for Lance to avoid  _ him _ , that was understandable. Avoiding the others in the castle in general; also understandable. But, to avoid Hunk and food? That… was concerning.

 

“Yeah, the dinner I left for him in the cold box is still there, and he hasn’t been in the kitchen at all today. I’ve been here the whole time -- Not even a glimpse of him. And, now that I think about it, I left a tray outside his door at lunch yesterday. It was practically untouched when I walked by his door this morning.” Hunk frowned. “I knocked, and he said he was fine... But, I haven’t actually seen him.” The big guy started twisting the hem of his apron in his fingers. “Do you think something’s happened?”

 

Keith shook his head and slumped back down against the counter. “No. I don’t think it’s anything new that hasn’t been slowly happening all week.” He picked up another cookie and contemplated it. “I take it he’s not talking to you?”

 

Hunk shook his head sadly. “No. Well, yes… but I don’t really count him shouting ‘I’m fine, go away.’ through the door as talking.”

 

“No. Neither do I. I really don’t know what to do, Hunk. If he won’t talk to you, his best friend, what chance do the rest of us have of helping him?”  
  
“I dunno man,” Hunk picked up a cookie of his own. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for something to happen. One of us will get an opening, we’ll just have to be ready to take advantage of it.”

 

“Yeah.” As they sat and nibbled cookies in silence, Keith was relieved. With Lance avoiding him as if he had the plague, the chances of it being him, were very small.

 

\----------

 

Lance stared into the mirror. The horror he saw there trapped his eyes and kept them prisoner. Only with great effort was he able to rip them away.

 

His hair was a dry, limp mess. His skin… Well, what was left of it was beginning to show his neglect, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Generally, he avoided mirrors, even going out of his way to avoid seeing his reflection in the reflected glass of the viewers or any polished surfaces. Every time he caught a glance of the pitted wasteland that had once been his face, it was a shock. It was soul-ripping reminder of the “accident”, of the bitter betrayal and how she had used him.

 

And what a love-struck, gullible fool he had been to let her.

 

\----------

 

The sound of shattering glass caused Keith to pause in startlement as he passed Lance’s room. He tapped cautiously on the door, Lance had yet to answer any of his attempts, but this time the sound alarmed him enough to give it another try. When there was no response, his alarm grew. Worried that something had happened, his soft tap at the door became a frantic pounding. “Lance!”

 

A faint echo from the other side of the door that sounded like someone yelping in pain had Keith punching the sequence on the doorpad to override the lock with unnecessary force. Allura said the code should only be used in an emergency… well, this sounded like an emergency to him. It took him 3 tries and one calming breath before he was able to type it correctly and the door whooshed open before his nose.

 

As he barged into the room, he spotted Lance coming out of the bathroom, carefully stepping over the shards of mirror and cradling his hand; blood dripping in a slow but steady rate from between his fingers. The boy blinked away the dull haze of his expression and with a clearing shake of his head, forced a weak attempt at his normal humor. “Oh! Hey Keith. Um, the door was unlocked, you know. No need to break it down.”

 

Keith stared at him in bewilderment for one, endless moment. How was this idiot so calm as he stepped barefoot over broken glass? 

 

Lance looked away from the stunned paladin. “Um, if you don’t mind, would you get me a towel or something, please?” He glanced down wryly at the remains of his hand. “I’m afraid I’m making a mess.”

 

Keith blinked and time jolted back into its normal flow. “Lance! What did you do?” He ducked into the bathroom and grabbed a blue towel, glancing around just long enough to take in the sight of the shattered mirror over the sink before rushing back out again.

 

Lance seemed in a bit of a daze as Keith steered him across the room by his elbow. He slumped dejectedly, cradling his hand as Keith pushed him down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of him. Gently, Keith took Lance’s battered hand in his own and turned it over, exposing the gaping red slashes that decorated his knuckles and the array of gashes along the side where his closed fist had struck the mirror. Keith hissed in concern. “We should get you to the medical bay.”

 

“Nah,” Lance shook his head, “It’s not that bad. Just wrap it up and it’ll be fine. Now my hand will match my face.” He laughed hollowly.

 

It wrenched Keith’s heart to hear the self-loathing in the paladin’s voice. This was much worse than either he or Hunk had anticipated. Apparently, even Allura’s little tattle-tale friends hadn’t realized how  _ much _ Lance had been hurting. “Lance…” 

 

“Keith, no.” He interrupted. The choked-off pain in his voice was hard to listen to. “Please,” he whispered, “...don’t.”

 

Keith bit his tongue. He wanted to rant, he wanted to curse. He wanted someone else, preferably Shiro, here to help him fix this problem. Most of all, he wanted to demand to know what Lance was hoping to accomplish by punching a mirror. 

 

Actually, he already knew the answer to that question. Lance wanted to obliterate the evidence of his mistake. He wrapped the towel around Lance’s hand and gruffly ordered him, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

 

Lance bobbed his head slowly as the door to his room swooshed open and closed again.

 

Keith was back momentarily and Lance pulled himself out of his fugue long enough to crane his head curiously as a white box was placed on the floor next to him. “You keep a first aid kit in your room? Wait,” he shook his head wryly, “Why am I surprised?”

 

“Shut up.” Keith’s response was mostly automatic. His mind was occupied with both the knowledge that this was the “opportunity” he and Hunk had been discussing yesterday and the very real task of examining Lance’s abrasions to ensuring there were no embedded shards in them. He had no attention to spare for engaging in heated verbal battle. Honestly he was tired of butting heads with Lance all the time and would be perfectly happy not to anymore. He swabbed antiseptic on the cuts and glanced up apologetically when Lance hissed in pain.

 

“Sorry. I just want to make sure they’re clean.”

 

“I know.” Lance sounded tired.

 

He looked tired too. This was the first time he’d seen Lance in days and as Keith took in the signs of neglect, he became increasingly concerned. “Man, you look like hell.” 

 

“That works out, then. It’s pretty much how I feel.”

 

A tenuous plan gelled in Keith’s mind. With a newfound, but firm resolve, Keith locked eyes with the despondent gaze of the Blue Paladin and summoned his best imitation of Pidge’s imperial manner. With a lifted chin, he declared, “Well, then… it’s about time we did something about that.”

 

“Huh?” Confusion writ plain on his face, Lance didn’t resist as Keith stood and pulled him to his feet.

 

“Did you get any cuts on your feet?” When he shook his head negatively, Keith guided him gently towards the door, avoiding the area of glass shards on the floor. He ducked into the destroyed bathroom to grab a couple bottles and came back to tuck them in the crook of Lance’s arm. “Here. Take these, go take a shower in my room and get clean. Then come back. I’ll take care of this mess in here for you.”

 

“But..my towel” Lance gestured at the bloodstained bit of fabric on the floor.

 

“Use one of mine.” And Keith firmly pushed him out the door.

 

By the time Lance returned, Keith had set his room in order again. The broken pieces of mirror had been removed from the bathroom and the shards of glass have been cleaned from the floor along with the bloodstains. Robe, slippers and pajamas had even been left out on his bed. Bemused, Lance could find no sign of his unexpected benefactor. He found himself curiously disappointed. He'd been avoiding everyone and pushing them aside; even Hunk. But now, after five minutes without Keith, he felt even more alone than he had before.

 

Before he could sink any further into that depressing thought, there was a tap on his door and Lance startled. “C-come in?”

 

The door slid open and Keith stepped inside, holding a tray with bowls of food on it. His eyes widened when he saw Lance with only a red towel around his waist and droplets of water trailing down his chest from his still-wet hair. Face growing warm, he glanced away. “Oh. I thought you would be dressed by now. I went to let Shiro know I wouldn’t be sparring with him tonight. I also picked up some food since you skipped dinner.” The word “again” was carefully left unsaid.

 

Lance reflected that perhaps his shower had been longer than he thought. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, softly. He ran his fingers along the upper fold of the towel, uncomfortably aware of what, exactly, and how little he was wearing. “Um..”

 

Keith walked in briskly and set the tray down on the table then retreated just as quickly. “I’m, um...gonna go change and give you a chance to get dressed. I’ll be back in about five minutes if that’s all right?” Lance nodded as Keith sidled out the door, releasing a shaky breath as it slid closed behind him.

  
  


Ten minutes later, Keith tapped on the door once more. It slid open and to his relief, Lance had changed into his blue pajamas and robe. Still wearing the red towel now wrapped around his head, he sat, casually rocking one loose slipper back and forth on his toes as he peered morosely into one of the bowls of food-goo. 

 

Startled by the sound of the door, Lance, who had been lost in thought, looked up, dropping his spoon into the well-churned bowl. 

 

Carefully gauging the level of semi-liquid, Keith estimated that the young man had eaten exactly nothing. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, he crossed the room and carefully turned the tray so the second bowl was now in front of Lance. 

 

Lance looked down at the bowl curiously and then back up at Keith. “Isn’t that one yours?” 

 

Keith picked up the dropped spoon and handed it back to him, sitting down beside him on the bed with a smug smile. He crossed his arms and slumped back into the pillows. “Nope. I ate earlier with everyone else. I brought the second bowl in case you threw the first one at me and screamed at me to get out of your room. You see, I’ve learned something from having brought trays to Pidge before.” The corner of Lance’s lip twitched imperceptibly. Keith closed his eyes and continued, “At least I didn’t have to worry about your door being booby-trapped to electrocute me.” Keith heard a snicker and opened one eye for a peek. Lance took a bite of the green goo. Encouraged, Keith continued to dredge up the most outrageous anecdotes to amuse the Blue Paladin... most of them featuring Pidge.

 

Slowly, the level of food in the bowl decreased until, finally, “...And that would be why I showed up to training covered in glitter.”

 

Lance almost choked on his last bite. “Oh my gosh! That was Hunk? I can’t believe it. You know, I think Shiro always believed that was my fault. You certainly never gave it away.”

 

Keith loved seeing Lance’s broad smile. He couldn’t help but grin in return. Even the way the new scars pulled it upwards and off-kilter on the left side only made it more uniquely his. He knew Lance was feeling self-conscious about it, and possibly it hurt a little when he smiled so he tended to cut his laughs off rather abruptly now, but that just made this one even more precious.

 

He heaved himself up off the pillows before Lance thought about it and the good mood evaporated. Still, Lance’s face dropped into a rictus of concern. Keith smiled and patted him on the leg as he reached down and fished the first aid kit out from under Lance’s bed where he had stashed it. “Let’s take care of your hand now.”

 

“Oh!  Okay…” Lance’s enthusiasm waned but Keith was still able to pull the injured hand into his lap and examine it more carefully. The shower had washed the blood away and the bleeding was down to just a sluggish leak on a couple stubborn scrapes. As he turned the long fingers gently over in his own, calloused hands, Keith was relieved that none of the cuts were very deep. It looked like it was mostly just abrasions and what would be some beautiful bruises come tomorrow. None of the fingers were broken and none of the cuts needed stitches. He sighed in relief as he ran his thumb absentmindedly over Lance’s palm.

 

Lance shifted uncomfortably at the attention. It felt awkward having Keith pouring so intently over his hand. “Umm. Keith? Can I have my hand back now?”

 

“Hmm?” Keith replied, still distracted. 

 

“My hand.” Lance insisted. He pulled back slightly to make his point.

 

Keith was startled out of his woolgathering and actually tightened his grip in reflex as he glanced up at Lance’s face with wide eyes. Lance hissed in pain. “Oh! Sorry. No, not yet.” He fumbled for one of the little jars in the kit and dropped Lance’s hand in his lap long enough to open it and dip out some cream with his fingers. “Let me put this on and bandage it up. You won’t have to go in a pod but there will probably be some questions later from everyone else when they see this.”

 

Lance sighed in mingled relief and resignation. The cream Keith was spreading on his hand did ease the throbbing but having Keith slowly rub it over his injuries dragged his unruly imagination in directions he really didn’t want it to go right now. Better to think about what excuse he was going to give the others for his bandage instead of how gentle Keith’s battle-hardened hands were.

 

As things were put away inside the kit, Lance simply sat with his hands in his lap, trying not to think of anything at all. Finished, Keith closed the lid and tucked it back under the bed. That domestic act startled Lance out of his circling thoughts and he blurted out, “What are you doing? You’re leaving that here? Why?”

 

Keith looked up and met Lance’s blue eyes with a raised eyebrow. “Just in case you need it again.” He waved off the incipient protest, “Don’t worry, I’ll go pick up another one for myself. I go through them often enough that no one will think anything of it.” Although, he might wait a few days or the others would connect his refreshing of a first-aid kit with Lance’s newly-bandaged hand.

 

“Oh.” and Lance dropped his eyes back down to his lap. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a bit. Keith spent the time studying what he could see of Lance’s face and thought about the jars and bottles he’d seen in the bathroom while he had been cleaning up glass. He had seen Allura give Lance a couple of those after he came out of cryo. They were still unopened.

 

“Lance,” and the boy jumped again. Keith’s concern grew. He was as nervous as a cat at the dog pound and that was not a good thing. What could settle him? 

 

An idea occurred to him. He groaned internally. Would it work? Possibly. Would he enjoy this? Probably not. Still, if it got Lance to smile again it might be worth it.

 

“Lance,” he repeated, “When was the last time you did your nightly skincare routine?” Rhetorical. Keith knew exactly when Lance last pampered himself. Right before that visit to the lab with Schee’rit and not a bit since then. He hoped it was only a reluctance to look at himself and not a form of self-punishment. 

 

Lance tugged at his robe, fraying the tassels on the end of the waist-cord. “Um…”

 

“You want to? It might make you feel better.” he prompted. When Lance hesitated again, he added, “Your skin is drying out. Can we at least put some lotion on?” It wasn’t, at least, not much, but that was an opening Keith could use.

 

Lance still hesitated. Keith persisted, “Lance,” he said delicately, “is it because of the mirrors?”

 

Lance drew away, curling up on himself. It was a long moment that taxed Keith’s patience before he got his answer: a strangled sob and a tiny nod.

 

Keith reached over and covered the bandaged hand with his own. “Would you let me help you?”

 

A brisk shake of the head and they were back at square one. Keith groaned internally. He would have to use his trump card after all. “I’ll… let you do mine.” 

 

Lance’s head rose slowly like a flower in springtime. Blue eyes, shining with unshed tears, were wide with disbelief. “What?” he squeaked.

 

Uncomfortably aware of that bright gaze, Keith ran his fingers through his hair and stared determinedly at the far wall. “If you let me put lotion on your face, I’ll let you do one of those muddy skin mask things on me.”

Keith could see the wheels of consideration, of weights and balances churning behind Lance’s eyes. They tipped slowly, picking up momentum until… “Yes!” Lance jumped off the bed and almost tripped over his own feet as he rushed to the bathroom, leaving Keith vaguely worried about the monster he had certainly just created.

 

Lance flew around the room. “We’ll need a headband for your hair and the cleanser and can’t forget the hot water…” He continued to babble as he gathered up various tools and ingredients and filled the small side table near the bed with bottles and jars; shoving the dinner tray so far off to one side, Keith was afraid it would fall off before Lance finally picked it up and set it on the floor to give himself more room. “There. I usually do this in the bathroom but there’s more room out here and the light is still good and, well… the lack of a mirror in here doesn’t make a difference now. I suppose we could use my hand-mirror if we need one for some reason…” Keith was beginning to smile bemusedly as Lance orchestrated their evening. 

 

He practically buzzed around the room. After dumping an armload of towels and other miscellaneously unidentifiable items on the bed he turned and frowned at Keith. As the frown deepened into a scowl, Keith grew nervous, wondering what he’d done wrong.

 

“You... haven’t washed your face!” Lance grabbed him by the arm and pulled him upright, practically spinning him around and shoving him into the bathroom. “Go. Go! Wash your face! Now.” Resisting Lance at this point would have been like resisting the force of a hurricane; pointless at best, dangerous at worst. Keith shrugged and turned on the water.

 

It wasn’t long before he found himself perched on the bed with his hair held back in a band, his face in a drying concoction of what felt like half the mud on Arus and a delightedly happy Blue Paladin rambling on about the different qualities of the assortment of masks at his disposal.

 

With a grin, and a silent prayer, Keith reached out, snagged a pot of what he thought was probably lotion, and scooted forwards. “C’mere you. It’s your turn.”

 

Lance froze. He stopped talking mid-sentence and bit his lip. Keith ignored the pleading in his eyes and waved the jar at him, motioning for him to come closer. Lance looked nervously to the side and back, licked his lips and stammered, “Hey, um... Why don’t we go wash that off your face now? I’ll bet it’s getting pretty itchy, huh?”

 

Keith shook his head firmly and took another scoot forwards as Lance backed away. “No, it’s your turn now. That was the deal.” His tone was quiet, but firm.

 

Lance shook his head and backed himself up until his back was pressed up against the wall. Keith paused. This was not working.

 

“Lance,” still in that steady, quiet voice, “close your eyes.” Chest heaving, he stared at Keith unblinking. Keith waited.  _ Patience… _ Eventually Lance took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“Good,” Keith continued, “Now, I want you to relax. Just like we do during the bonding exercises. We’re teammates and partners and there is absolute trust between us…” Keith continued to drone on, using many of the same words Shiro or Allura used during training to bring them all together; watching, until he saw Lance’s shoulders relax almost imperceptibly. He continued to just sit there and talk, mostly reassuring nonsense and training instructions, until Lance’s breathing evened out and was in time with Keith’s slow words.

 

“Now, remember how we’ve been having fun tonight? I’ve enjoyed spending time with you a lot. You spread that mask so carefully; I want to try and do the same. Will you let me?” He then paused and waited.

 

He waited while Lance struggled to keep his breathing steady and struggled with the request.

 

Finally, with a desperate gasp, Lance’s eyes flew open and he exclaimed, “I can’t.  I’m sorry, Keith. I can’t!”

 

Trying not to look as hurt and disappointed as he felt, Keith sat back on his heels and let his hands rest on his thighs. He cocked his head to one side and asked, “Why not?” The white mask covering his face was beginning to crack and itch. Five minutes ago he felt absolutely ridiculous. Now, he just wanted to know what was going on inside Lance’s head that was holding him back with such a tight grip.

 

“I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want anyone to touch me!” Lance wailed.

 

“Why?” Keith persisted.

 

“Because I’m horrible! I can’t even stand to look at myself, so how can you stand to look at me? Why would you want to? It’s all a reminder that I was stupid and gullible and she played me. She  _ used _ me, Keith. I let her. And now I’ve got _ this _ ,” he fluttered his hand near his face, “and no one will ever see me again without seeing what she did to me.” He pulled his feet up to his chest and sank as deeply into the corner of the bed-alcove as he could. “I can’t do that again. Anyone I let close will only betray me.”

 

A fiery rage curled in Keith’s gut as Lance spoke. It curled upwards and wound around his heart, burning its way outwards until he couldn’t hold it in any more. He lunged forward and grabbed Lance, gripping his head in both hands and forcing him to look up into Keith’s stormy eyes. 

 

“I will never betray you.”

 

He gave him a little shake. “I. Will. Never. Let anyone do that to you again.” Lance stared, immobilized like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a large hawk. 

 

Keith relaxed his grip, cupping Lance’s jaw and giving it an apologetic pat. “You are my friend and I care about you.” As Lance just stared at him in shock, he dropped back down and sat cross-legged on the bed, picked up the jar and gestured him over with a crooked finger. “Now, come here and let me put some goop on you.”

 

Lance’s laughter was terrifyingly close to sobbing. Keith made a show of peering at the little jar, even going so far as to hold it upside down, trying to read the label. “What is in this stuff anyway? Is this supposed to go on your face or your feet?” 

 

Lance choked, wiped his face on his sleeve and lunged forward with a weak chuckle in an attempt to grab the jar. “Give that to me, you heathen.” 

 

Keith jerked it out of reach and raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure you won’t grow tentacles or something if you use this?” He feigned deeper concern. “I think we should definitely test this on you and not me…”

 

“Keith, you’re horrible.” Lance sat back with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just facial cream. Allura gave it to me and said it would help with flexibility and skin tone. She picked it up a couple planets back.”

 

“Let’s try it, then.”Keith grinned broader and patted the bed in front of him. When Lance hesitated, he arched an eyebrow, “You promised.”

 

Lance sighed in resignation. He just didn’t want to be upset any more. He slumped down in front of Keith and put on a bored air, trying to hide his jangling nerves.

 

Keith took a smear of the pale cream on his fingers and leaned over to rub it in but stopped inches away and frowned. Lance started to panic. “What?”

 

Using his other hand, Keith took a hold of Lance's chin and tilted his face to see the scars better in the light. He released him after only a moment and got up, wiping his fingers on a towel as he headed wordlessly to the bathroom.

 

“ _ What _ ?”

 

Keith's muffled voice drifted back over the sound of the running water, “Relax, you've just got some soap on your face still. You didn't get it all off. 

 

Lance's hand fluttered up to touch the rough texture. The pock-marks left little crevices that were horrible for catching dirt and just everything. It was one of the reasons he'd been so proud of his flawless skin before. All gone now…

 

A wet face cloth, briskly applied, interrupted his downwards spiral into familiar depression. He sputtered and tried to bat away Keith's hand. 

 

“Stop that. There's no way you'll get this yourself without a mirror so settle down.”

 

Mortified, Lance relented and permitted his face to be washed like a baby.

 

“Am I being too rough?” a soft question; one that made his chest tighten and he gave a small shake of his head in reply. Nothing verbal - he'd only end up making an embarrassing squeak and this was bad enough.

 

Keith dropped the face cloth and picked up a clean one. “Here, hand me that cleanser you used on me.”  Lance did so, almost in a numb daze. He closed his eyes as the cool liquid was swiped across his skin.

 

Moments later it was followed by the tentative patting of a fluffy towel. Lance started to chuckle. Eyes still closed, he grinned broadly enough for the skin to pull at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Oh. My. God. Shut up. I don't do this for just anyone.”

 

Lance coughed as he tried to stifle the laughter. “Dude, you don't even do this for yourself.” 

 

“Exactly.”

 

Lance felt an unaccountable expansion in his chest. The quiet mood lasted quite a while. Masks were washed off, lotion was applied with an intent frown of concentration that Lance wanted to see again and he even managed to talk Keith into allowing him to brush out the growing length of his black hair. Lance’s brush, this time; not Pidge’s. As he let the black strands slide through his fingers like a waterfall, he carefully did  _ not _ mention the few strands of hair carefully plucked from her brush and tucked in the back of a drawer. Lance felt his cheeks warm as the thought intruded anyhow. He didn’t know why he had saved them, why he had wanted them...

 

“... I ought to get it cut.”

 

“No, let it grow,” Lance found himself saying. “Put it in a ponytail.”

 

Keith leaned back and looked over his shoulder, disrupting the rhythm of the brush. “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. It would look good on you, Samurai.”

 

Keith raised his eyebrow but turned back around and settled back down in front of Lance, “Okay.” he sighed and smiled, “I like that better than ‘Mullet’, anyhow.”

 

Lance felt the smile tug at his lips and this time when the scar pulled, he didn’t mind so much.

 

They both agreed this was something they could do again the next night and as Keith returned to his own room, he decided to ask Shiro to change their sparring sessions to mornings from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! There it is. I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> "Wait!" you say, "It says 8 chapters and you've only given us 7!"
> 
> I know.  
> For those of you who are here just for the Klance, you can wrap it up right here and be happy and content.  
> For those of you who are multi-shippers who have been following this saga and read "All Dressed Up...", there's an epilogue to follow of Lance and Pidge and how he discovers exactly who she's got a crush on. /wink
> 
> Next week!
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you like these saps and this domestic moment.


	8. In the End (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wandering the back corridors, lost in his own self-pity and misery, Lance comes across someone else crying...
> 
> and sets aside his own problems to help a teammate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Someone has a crush on an older paladin... if this topic bothers you, go ahead and skip this chapter.)

Chapter 8 - In the End (Epilogue)

  
  


Lance was restless. Too much time alone in his room wore on his nerves, setting him pacing back and forth. The evenings with Keith helped, but he still found times in the middle of the night where the anxiety and doubt ate at him to the point where he couldn’t sleep. It was much better to wander the dark, midnight halls so he could avoid going bat-guano crazy. As long as he avoided the stargazing hall near the observation deck and the long one near the reception hall with the large mirrors…

 

Yes, the dusty corridors in the back of beyond were much better for him. 

 

He wandered them for a time, letting his steps take him where they would, letting his mind lay empty and quiet like the hallways. But then… he heard a noise in the darkness.

 

His steps slowed and then he paused. This corridor was occupied.

 

Lance could barely make out a lump of shadow in the dim light. He might have passed it off as a trick of lighting, if not for the snuffling.

 

Lance knew that noise.That wet, vibrating drag of air through swollen nasal passages.  It was accompanied by soft hics, the kind that only happened after you’d been crying for a long time and had reached that end point where the numbness was starting to set in. 

 

“Hello?” he called, tentatively. No one likes being caught after a crying jag, but it’s worse if you know someone saw you and just left.

 

A startled gasp in the darkness was followed by a rustling of fabrics and the scuff of shoes. Lance’s brows drew together. There was another loud sniffle and the sound of a sleeve being dragged across a nose. It was taking him a while to identify the person, but each moment narrowed the possibilities considerably. By the time he stepped forward, he was fairly certain of his guess. “Pidge?”

 

“L- Lance? Oh, flippin’ quiznack.”

 

His guess confirmed, Lance slid forward and settled down next to her on the floor. Casually, he took a few moments to settle himself comfortably, or at least as comfortably as the hard surface of a bulkhead against his back would allow, which gave her time to scrub the tear crust out of her eyes and regain the illusion of control. She sniffed a few more times before blowing her breath out in an extended exhale that seemed to drain some of the tension from her frame. The whole effect, however, was fairly ruined by the stuttering sob of her inhale.

 

“Hey, c’mere.” His own worries forgotten by the need to comfort a teammate, Lance put his arm around her and pulled her into his embrace. She fit securely under his arm and snuggled in like she belonged there. Having several sisters, Lance knew patience was the key to unlocking mysterious tears and so he waited calmly until the leftover sobs died down to nothing more than the occasional, shuddering hiccup. He didn’t have a tissue so he offered her the edge of his jacket. It needed washing, he’d wiped his own face on it more than a few times lately and so a few more tear stains wouldn’t make any difference. She nodded her thanks into his chest and heaved a long, shuddering sigh.

 

“Feel better?”

 

“Yeah, a bit.” She paused, adding a reluctant, “Thanks.”

 

He grinned down at her bronze head of hair, “No prob. Always here to lend a shoulder to cry on.” Carefully he gauged her current level of calm against the potential amount of time she’d been crying based on the puffiness of her eyes and came up with an ambiguous answer that didn’t help him in guessing her possible reaction in the slightest. He decided to swing anyway and see what happened. “So, ummm… you wanna talk about it?”

 

“No.”

 

The flat answer was something Lance had expected, so he was only a little hurt. Pidge wasn't the type to confide in him. He sighed and shifted to get up, “I’ll go find Shiro, then. You always talk to him.”

 

“No!”

 

The panicked alarm in her voice stopped him almost as surely as her vice-like grip on his arm. He gave her a raised eyebrow but didn't move another inch, either way.

 

“Please, Lance. Don't tell him. Don't tell anyone!” 

 

“Pidge, you've been sitting in the dark, in an abandoned hallway, sobbing your eyes puffy --which, by the way, is not a good look for you-- for hours, judging by the state of your face. If you won't tell me, you have to tell someone.”

 

“Like who?”

 

He sighed. “Well, I’m available.” She looked at him dubiously. He started to push himself upwards again, “Shiro’s usually checking airlock seals on deck 40 this time of night…”

 

“No!” Her fingers dug into his jacket so hard he sat back down, concerned she would rip it.

 

“Fine, then.” he huffed, “Start talking.”

 

She swallowed and glanced sideways, checking to see if there was anyone else in the vacant corridor. “You have to promise,” she whispered.

 

“I promise.” He rolled his eyes.

 

She peered over her glasses at him with a steady glare.

 

“Really!” He crossed his heart.

 

There was no reaction. Sheesh, she was more stubborn than any of his siblings. “Fine.” He held out the pinky of his right hand.

 

“What?” 

 

Well, at least that was a reaction, although not the one he had expected. She had a sibling, didn’t she? He waggled the finger at her. “Pinky Promise. I solemnly ‘Pinky Promise’ not to tell.” 

 

Pidge looked at him as if he’d grown tentacles out of his nose. 

 

“Oh come on! This is the most solemn, most unbreakable sibling vow you can make! I can’t believe Matt never taught you this?” Lance was dumbfounded. 

 

“I know what it is, Lance! And, for the record, I’m the one that taught him, not the other way around!” She hooked her pinky in his and gave it three firm shakes, cementing the ultimate vow of silence.

 

Lance settled back down against the bulkhead and put his arm around her again. She sighed and cuddled up against him. His heart warmed in a way he hadn’t really allowed since the accident - at least, not with anyone other than Keith -  and the cold desire to keep everyone away in order not to get hurt again, eased. He murmured softly into her hair, “Ok, now that we’ve established that, let’s get down to business. What has gotten my little gremlin child so sad today?”

 

She mumbled something practically inaudible. It was a rising and falling mutter of words so jumbled and mushed together that the only word he was able to pick out was “Shiro”.

 

__ _ Shiro?  _ Had their leader hurt her in some way? That would explain why she didn’t want to talk to him... but for Shiro to act harshly in any way towards Pidge was somehow inconceivable. Pidge was his favorite! He’d heard Keith take the guy to task many times over being too soft on her in training practice; Shiro always gave her the biggest slice whenever he cut a cake; there were always words of praise for her, after every battle, even more than for anyone else. No, it couldn’t be…

 

“Umm. Would you say that again, please?”

 

She took a deeper breath and slowly released it. “I really don’t want to talk about it…” she whined.

 

“Pinky Promise,” Lance reminded her, “It goes no farther than these walls.”

 

“Ohhhkayyy..” she breathed out and Lance waited as she collected her thoughts.

 

Staring firmly at the ground between her knees, Pidge began in a flat voice, “We had training today. You weren’t there…” Lance winced inside. “...so we paired up; Me and Shiro, Keith and Hunk. We were racing through the invisible maze.”

  
Lance felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t been to any of the bonding exercises, training exercises or even after-dinner activities in the common room. Keith had tried to coax him into it but he’d stubbornly refused. Hell, he hadn’t really even been to meals. Maybe that’s why he had missed whatever had brought her to this state. 

 

“So, anyway, Keith and Hunk had some troubles; Keith's directions aren't always clear enough when he gets impatient so Hunk ran into a wall and got flustered.”

 

Lance murmured sympathetically. Keith’s directions got  _ really _ bad when he was in a hurry.

 

“For once, Hunk didn't just go ‘my bad’ and roll with the blow. He actually started yelling at Keith and Shiro and I were so stunned we actually let them go at it for a minute or so before Shiro broke it up. They did eventually settle down and Hunk made it through the maze.”

 

Lance was aghast. “Hunk yelled at someone?” Pidge nodded confirmation. “Wow. I wish I had been there to see that.” He could count on his fingers the number of times Hunk had lost his temper.

 

“When it was our turn,” she continued, “I was in the maze and Shiro was giving directions. Coran scrambled the pattern so I wouldn't know which maze I was in. Apparently he thinks I cheat.”

 

“You don’t?”

 

“Shut up.” Her reflexive answer still made him smile. “Anyway, I was all flustered, I really wanted to do better than Hunk and Keith. Although, to be honest, that wasn’t terribly hard this time. Still, I really didn’t want to let Shiro down, y’know?”

 

Lance nodded. She took her glasses off and wiped at a smudge with the greatest of concentration.

 

“Shiro was his usual self, telling me to take it easy and trust him; there was nothing to worry about, he’d take care of me…. Patience… focus… yada yada...” She huffed a breath and trailed her fingers through her unkempt mane of hair. “It drives me nuts, trusting other people for information. People are unreliable.”

 

Lance, finding an unknown level of wisdom, for him, kept his mouth shut. He wanted to know the story, not engage in debate.

 

“So, since there was no way Shiro would let me sneak a peek at the maze components on my wristpad, I closed my eyes and just waited for instructions.” She put her glasses back on and her voice took on a tone of wonder, “Lance, it was almost magical. Like when you're bonded with your lion and you can see literally everything. I listened, and I could actually see in my mind where the walls were; where he wanted me to turn. I didn't have to hesitate or even pause. Not even once. It was just at a walk, but you know how often it's one step at a time with long pauses and debate. Today, it felt like I was flying through there. I was so nervous because we were going fast but at the same time I trusted him.” Lance grinned, the barrage of words took a bit of concentration to follow. Especially as she was waving her hands in the air, emphasizing the way the walls had been and the way they had been hardly an obstacle at all. “We did it. We finished the maze. And in a record-breaking time.” 

 

Her eyes smiled behind the lenses. Lance felt his heart lighten, it was so good to hear her happy for once, she was so often dourly focused on the search for her family. Her voice rose with excitement, “I was really excited. I ran up to the control room and gave him the biggest hug…I was so happy, we were so in tune with each other and it was just so great!”  

 

Then she paused.  “Then he patted me on the head.” Her voice just dropped. “He patted me on the head like a puppy.” Her smile melted away like snow in the sun, the tears welled up again. 

 

“Hey, hey now…” Lance patted her soothingly as she curled up in a ball again. “Pidge, sweetie, why are you crying again? Shiro does that all the time. Why in the world are you so upset about it?”

 

“Because”, she wailed, “he does it all the time!” 

 

That was just so confusing it took Lance several moments to process. And then, as he recalled an evening he’d overheard with one of his sisters on the phone, he connected the pieces together. “Oh my. Oh, my my my… oh, me oh my!” 

 

She sniffled, wiped her nose on her sleeve and glanced up at him inquiringly.

 

“You have a crush!” He crowed it in delight. “On Shiro!”

 

She buried her face in her arms again. There was no nod, no confirmation, the mere lack of denial was statement enough. He reached over and scooted her closer to him so he could tuck her under his arm again. 

 

“You know that’s not gonna happen, right?”

 

She sniffled.

 

“Pidge, he’s like 8 years older than you, or 10 or something.” He felt her stiffen. “Look, I’m not saying you can’t like him and all, I’m just saying don’t expect him to reciprocate.”

 

She nodded.

 

“You picked a rough one there to have a crush on. But, don’t worry, Gremlin, not a word from me to anyone.”

 

“Thanks.” she answered resignedly. “I appreciate that.”

 

Lance, still delighted with this tidbit of a secret even the mice didn't know about, jumped to his feet and pulled her upright with a squawk. “Come on! You missed dinner and I'm actually hungry for once. Let's go down to the kitchen and scrounge some midnight grub.”

 

Pidge considered for a moment. Her eyes narrowed and the edge of her mouth quirked upwards. “Good idea. You can treat me to some of the cookie bars out of your stash.”

 

“What?” He yelped. “That’s totally unfair. Don't you have your own?”

 

She shook her head. “All gone. Keith's too. Can't locate any in Hunks hiding spots -- and I know all of them -- but I can still smell them so they must be yours.”

 

Lance huffed. Give away his stash? Well, not like he'd been eating them. Hunk always brought him extra treats lately anyhow. He nodded, but grumbled anyway, “Fine. I only do this out of the kindness of my heart. I take pity on you for the state of your face.”

 

He froze, suddenly aware of what he'd said and how it left him open for a patented Pidge cutdown. The scars felt tight and prickly, they began to throb.

 

She looked up at him as they walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. The lift of an eyebrow told him she was thinking the same thing he was. He braced himself for the inevitable.

 

“Yeah. I bet I look a mess. I can hardly breathe anymore.” She sniffed dramatically to demonstrate. “I definitely need a cookie to lift my spirits. How about you?”

 

Lance blinked. Stunned. So stunned he almost stopped walking. Pidge was passing up an opportunity to roast him? Practically unthinkable. What would happen next? Zarkon showing up in a tea dress with gift ponies for each of them? He shook his head violently to get that image out of his brain.

 

“You know, these will be the last cookies we’ll get out of Hunk for a while so we’d best enjoy them while we can.”

 

“Wait,” Lance was confused, “what do you mean by that?”

 

Pidge’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs as she looked at him in astonishment. “Wow. You really have been out of it, haven’t you? Don’t you remember? Hunk is heading over to the Balmera for a week. They’re having the naming ceremony for his and Shay’s kid.”

 

“What?” Lance was astounded. When had he missed that little tidbit? Hunk had a baby and hadn’t told him? With Shay! Just before he was about to launch into a tirade on them not telling him things, he suddenly remembered… he hadn’t exactly made himself that available lately. 

 

“Man.” Pidge shook her head slowly in disbelief. “You have really been in your own little world if you don’t remember that. He’s been going on about it for weeks. He and Shay adopted a couple of the orphaned Balmeran kids together. The youngest is old enough now for her formal naming ceremony and it’s a huge deal.” 

 

Lance  _ did _ remember, now. He felt terrible. Here he had been wallowing in his own self-pity to the point where he’d almost missed being there to celebrate this with his best friend. Pidge let the subject go, not needling him about it. Again, unlike her but appreciated all the more for it. Except for the one, last, parting shot.

 

“I already put together a gift for you. I’ll drop by your room tomorrow with a card for you to sign.”

 

Lance descended to an even deeper level of guilt.

 

He groaned. “I owe you a lot more than just a couple of stupid space cookies.”

 

“I’m your friend, idiot. Don’t worry about it. Just crawl back out of your cave and remember what it’s like to be a human, again.” 

 

“Human… yeah.” He had some thinking to do and some recent behavior trends that needed to be corrected, “I think I can do that.” He reached up into a cupboard above the cold-box to pull out a tin of cookies.

  
It was a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I hope you enjoyed this story which became a monster that created itself. I only assisted it in its birth. 
> 
> Thank you for reading through to the end and I hope to see you all in a couple months for Keith's story...  
> "Those Unspoken Words"
> 
> My editor extended my deadline so I'm working hard on it!
> 
> Thank you again and feel free to yell at me here or on tumblr @LittlePennyCandy


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